How still they sleep within the city moil In their old churchyard with its sighing trees, Where sometimes through the din a twilight breeze Makes one forget the busy streets of toil; But they have little thought of worldly spoil Or the great gain of mortal victories, Their hopes, their dreams, are cold and dead as these Quaint, time-worn gravestones crumbling on the soil. Yet they once lived and struggled years ago; Their hearts beat madly as these hearts of ours— And now is all undone in dreamless rest? See, a great city stands against the glow— Their city, they who here beneath the flowers Have known so long God's gift of peace, most blest! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A THANKSGIVING TO GOD [FOR HIS HOUSE] by ROBERT HERRICK CITY OF ORGIES by WALT WHITMAN HESPERIDES by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THORWALDSEN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE OLD VERMONT FARM by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY SECOND BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 17 by THOMAS CAMPION TO HIS MISTRESS by THOMAS CAREW |