Spring is very late in New York,
We, tourists, feel chilly at dusk.
Setting sun seems to fall down beyond skyscraper,
We're watching the statue of Liberty in mists.
We regret not to share the ruins of W.T. Tower,
And forget to enjoy water birds in the waves.
The dream in Ellis Island with waves in mist,
Is wakened by an unmerciful; stream-whistle fast.