The Modern City

It is wonderful and terrible and I love it.

New York, New York

The City
by William Rose Benét
 
I went forth to sing the city, today’s city—
 The blank stone sphinx, the monster search-light-eyed,
The roaring mill where gods grind without pity,
 The falling torrent, the many-colored tide.

Granite and steel upflung became my fountains,
 Cunningly reared and held as by a spell.
Lost in colossal stone, my newer mountains,
 I wandered witlessly through miracle.

And snared in tiny toils both frail and idle
 I lost my wonder as I had lost my stars,
Though here a mammoth heaved no man might bridle,
 A terrible symphony rolled through crashing bars.

But small and obvious life fogged every wonder
 And itching needs and each small thirst and lust.
Over me and about me roared the thunder
 Of the city’s heart; I trafficked with its dust.

Yet beyond Babylon its ways were regal;
 Even Jerusalem its dreams outsoared.
Loins of the lion and splendor of the eagle,
 Where swarming vermin hailed it god and lord;

Where hardly one could touch, save to defile it,
 The dream phantasm it spread aloft at night;
Where men snared men, and made all men revile it,
 Save in its moments of bewildering light.

Yet men had thought and raised and poised its splendor,
 And fed the torrents of its living veins,
And had fallen prone before it in surrender,
 Seeing its awful being repay their pains.

A living being, but blind, where all misprision
 Flourished and fattened, and, lashed as by a scourge,
Flowed fear-struck crowds—yet dupes of some strange vision
 As on the instant ready to emerge,

But ever foiled—and still forever trembling
 Just past the reach of mind, the urge of will;
Sum of all jaded aims and drab dissembling,
 Something unbuilded, to be builded still!

So once again, almost desire,
 The appalling city unsealed the eyes she sealed,
Until her darkest streets ran weltering fire
 For thought of love at point to be revealed.

So all their eyes are fixed on mine forever,
 Eyes of dark pain, unfathomable will:
Something unbuilded, to be builded—never?
 Something unbuilded, to be builded still!

I was born in Baltimore but grew up in New York City for most of my childhood. I love the energy of city life. It's noisy and chaotic and exciting in all the best ways. There's a world of possibilities to explore: jazz clubs, theaters, zoos, stadiums, date spots, and the list goes on, and that's precisely what attracted me to this poem. It seems familiar to me, the song "New York, New York, What a Wonderful Town" by the great Frank Sinatra.

This poem explores the modern city. It begins with the poet trying to praise the city, which is depicted as a beautiful and mysterious being. In this world, the city is full of mystery, danger, and excitement. And to an unending mill where divine forces grind without pity.

But all its grandeur aside, the poet finds himself securely locked in the drab routine of urban life. Small wants and petty distractions drown out the city's grander triumphs. His universe has misunderstood him: he lost his stars. The city's rushing energy is exhilarating and numbing. It is a place where nihilism and significance are devoured by the pound.

The poem compares this disillusionment with the city's monumental aspirations. The poet celebrates the city's greatness and magnificence. But alongside this splendor, the city is also afflicted by corruption, exploitation, and decay. This paradox is where humanity's loftiest ideals intermingle with crime and ugliness.

The poet also contemplates the city's roots, acknowledging that its magnificence springs from human thought and endeavor. Energetics from the people who built a bolthole became the forces that consumed them in their "life cave." The city is in a state of sullen vitality, motion rippling on the buses and streets as if the vehicles and people were all animated by an energy far beyond the control of humankind.

Despite its dangerous and crime-ridden streets, the city is fascinating and magnetic. The poem thoughtfully captures the modern city as an achievement of human ingenuity and an embodiment of human flaws.