The Voice of the City
The Voice of the City
Book Excerpt
ower, shimmered in the clear light of her
namesake in the sky. Along came my poet, hurry-
ing, hatted, haired, emitting dactyls, spondees and
dactylis. I seized him.
"Bill," said I (in the magazine he is Cleon), "give
me a lift. I am on an assignment to find out the
Voice of the city. You see, it's a special order. Ordi-
narily a symposium comprising the views of Henry
Clews, John L. Sullivan, Edwin Markham, May Ir-
win and Charles Schwab would be about all. But this
is a different matter. We want a broad, poetic,
mystic vocalization of the city's soul and meaning.
You are the very chap to give me a hint. Some years
ago a man got at the Niagara Falls and gave us its
pitch. The note was about two feet below the lowest
G on the piano. Now, you can't put New York into
a note unless it's better indorsed than that. But give
me an idea of what it would say if it should speak. It
is bound to be a mighty and far-reaching utterance.
To arrive at it we must take the tremendous crash of
the chords of the day
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