My northern pines are good enough for me,
But there’s a town my memory uprears-
A town that always like a friend appears,
And always in the sunrise by the sea.
And over it, somehow, there seems to be
A downward flash of something new and fierce,
That ever strives to clear, but never clears
The dimness of a charmed antiquity.

Analysis, meaning and summary of Edwin Arlington Robinson's poem Boston

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