"Up in the heights of the evening skies I see my
City of Cities float
In sunset's golden and crimson dyes: I look and
a great joy clutches my throat!
Plateau of roofs by canyons crossed: windows by
O gazing, how the heart is lost in the Deepest City
of the World!"
James Oppenheim, "New York, from a Skyscraper," Monday morning, and other poems