Poems (White)/New Orleans

by Jeannie Copes White

NEW ORLEANS

Right in the river's mouth
You proudly took your place,
The cities of the South,
The greatest of your race.
Your arms you circled round
And lovingly embrace,
But you don't like the sound
Of kisses on your face.
The city of my birth;
My first breath in your heart;
The place to me on earth
Where light of day was brought.
Here all my childhood spent
Amid your rush and din;
As business came and went,
My spirit leaped within.
I've seen your buildings rise,
Your homes and churches too;
Have watched your growing size,
As year on year you grew.
I've seen your lazy limbs
Go stretching here and there,
Embracing in your rims
All that is good and fair.
I've seen this face and form,
Familiar to the place,
And then in great alarm
I've heard he's lost the race,
That one, and this—and this—
Whose presence with us here
We often sadly miss:
They made the city dear.
But one by one they pass
And step across the line;
Their places fill up fast
By others for a time.
So they will in their time
Lie down, and then go out
Beyond the city line
Upon a strange new route.
To where your road will lead?
Why, to the city fair;
But you must give good heed
To passage and to fare.
Why can we not transport
This city over there?
Let others hold the fort
Until we claim our share.
Oh, may I there see you
Beyond this border line?
And may you see me, too,
For that would be sublime.
God grant my second birth,
Within that city fair,
Be likened to the first,
With familiar faces there.