City Of Orgies, Walks And Joys! City Whom That I Have Lived And Sung In Your Midst Will One Day Make You Illustrious, Not The Pageants Of You--Not Your Shifting Tableaux, Your Spectacles, Repay Me; Not The Interminable Rows Of Your Houses--Nor The Ships At The Wharves, Nor The Processions In The Streets, Nor The Bright Windows, With Goods In Them; Nor To Converse With Learn'D Persons, Or Bear My Share In The Soiree Or Feast; Not Those--But, As I Pass, O Manhattan! Your Frequent And Swift Flash Of Eyes Offering Me Love, Offering Response To My Own--These Repay Me; Lovers, Continual Lovers, Only Repay Me.