Or riding at anchor, and canal boats

In straight lines at the docks.

Farther on, across a slip, there are

Mountains of ore in reds and brown,

And pile upon pile of gravel and slag,

And sand in soft saffron hues,

Heaped up for the steel mills to devour;

[Pg 33]

Those gigantic mills whose tall stacks

Belch varicolored gases, against

The deep blue of the inner harbor,

Where the waves pound in

Over the sea wall.

All this cupped by the towering

City skyscrapers, and outlined against

The peaceful Eden hills,

Miles to the south.

And when I wait for the big bridge to lift

For a freighter with its important tugs,

I pull out of line, off to the side,

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