My northern pines are good enough for me, <br />But there’s a town my memory uprears— <br />A town that always like a friend appears, <br />And always in the sunrise by the sea. <br />And over it, somehow, there seems to be <br />A downward flash of something new and fierce, <br />That ever strives to clear, but never clears <br />The dimness of a charmed antiquity.<br /><br />Edwin Arlington Robinson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/boston/
