Page:Poems Hoffman.djvu/369

Not a day but hears its sadness
Not a home but knows its sound,
Not a town aglow with gladness
With no graveyard's sacred ground,
Life enwrapt with brightest promise,
Hush! the last decree is said
  From the city of the living
  To the city of the dead.

When shall life's long march be over,
When shall death's grim victors halt,
When shall requiems roll no longer
O'er cold urn or chiseled vault,
When shall falling clods be silent,
When the last sad rite be read,
  From the city of the living
  To the city of the dead?

Not till all these streets are lonely,
Not till vacant temples stand,
Not till homes and shops are empty
Over every clime and land,
Not till none are left to sorrow,
Listening to the ceaseless tread
  From the city of the living
  To the city of the dead.

Traveling to that silent city,
One by one to be forgot,
Would we not lose heart and courage,
Hope and purpose—were it not
For our Father's loving mercy,
Like the golden sunshine shed
  On the city of the living
  And the city of the dead?

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