Mount Auburn

by Charles Sprague

"There was a garden, and in the garden a new sepulchre."

What myriads throng, in proud array,
  With songs of joy, and flags unfurled,
To consecrate the glorious day,
  That gave a nation to the world!

We raise no shout, no trumpet sound,
  No banner to the breeze we spread;
Children of clay! bend humbly round;
  We plant a City to the Dead.

For man a garden rose in bloom,
  When you glad sun began to burn;
He fell, — and heard the awful doom, —
  "Of dust thou art, — to dust return!"

But He, in whose pure faith we come,
  Who in a gloomier garden lay,
Assured us of a brighter home,
  And rose, and led the glorious way.

His word we trust! When life shall end,
  Here be our long, long slumber passed;
To the first garden's doom we bend,
  And bless the promise of the last.