Through tangled mysteries of old romance
Knights, Latin, Celt or Saxon, pass a-dream,
Seeking the minarets of magic towers
Through the witched woods that gleam.
Stately in trappings thick with gold and gems,
Stern-browed and stubborn-eyed, they wandered forth,
As children credulous, as strong men brave,
To South, and West, and North.
Our venturous pilots map the windy skies;
To serve our pleasure, huger galleons wait.
Aflame with more than magic lights, our walls
Guard the Manhattan Gate!