I Proudly Read
On the Queensborough Bridge I sat me down,
Above the East River, looking at town.
The sun shot flakes of gold that flashed,
As cars and trucks above me passed.
A tug below did blow and blow,
Far 'neath my feet that swung so slow;
And gulls around out-sailed so free,
Reflecting joy that sailed in me,
That from my bag I pulled a page
And poems I read of varied age.
My voice was lost in the din o'erhead,
But o'er New York I proudly read.
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