I will not toy with it nor bend an inch. <br />Deep in the secret chambers of my heart <br />I muse my life-long hate, and without flinch <br />I bear it nobly as I live my part. <br />My being would be a skeleton, a shell, <br />If this dark Passion that fills my every mood, <br />And makes my heaven in the white world's hell, <br />Did not forever feed me vital blood. <br />I see the mighty city through a mist-- <br />The strident trains that speed the goaded mass, <br />The poles and spires and towers vapor-kissed, <br />The fortressed port through which the great ships pass, <br />The tides, the wharves, the dens I contemplate, <br />Are sweet like wanton loves because I hate.<br /><br />Claude McKay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-white-city/
