Oh Verrazano

She stands tall, broad and is prone to sway Bargaining eagerly with wind, rain and bitter days Her dress is fastened by once hot iron and steel A pearl necklace runs supplely along her winding frame Her skirt is held in place with pins Tacked securely to the edge of her border By callused hands that fashioned her for nearly no wage Some of whom fell in service to her And others who lived to be served by her Among the throngs of strangers who never peered from her towers At the majestic city she would someday adorn.