Poems (Edwards)/The City of Silence
THE CITY OF SILENCE.
The City of Silence! who, who does not tread
With a trembling step o'er the graves of the dead?
Whose heart does not throb with emotion to stand
On the threshold that hides the invisible land?
Whose soul does not heave with a tremulous sigh,
To gaze on the spot where so soon we must lie?
Whose cheek is not dewed with affection's soft tear,
While wandering among the green solitudes here?
With a trembling step o'er the graves of the dead?
Whose heart does not throb with emotion to stand
On the threshold that hides the invisible land?
Whose soul does not heave with a tremulous sigh,
To gaze on the spot where so soon we must lie?
Whose cheek is not dewed with affection's soft tear,
While wandering among the green solitudes here?
The heart is made better to tread this lone spot
And remember how soon we may share the same lot;
To think that our bodies, now breathing and warm,
Ere long will rest safely from life's gathering storm;
That our hearts, wildly beating with hopes and with fears,
Will have ceased to remember their joys and their cares,
And the life-blood that flows through each warm-gushing vein,
Ere long will be stopped, ne'er to course them again.
And remember how soon we may share the same lot;
To think that our bodies, now breathing and warm,
Ere long will rest safely from life's gathering storm;
That our hearts, wildly beating with hopes and with fears,
Will have ceased to remember their joys and their cares,
And the life-blood that flows through each warm-gushing vein,
Ere long will be stopped, ne'er to course them again.
A few fleeting years, and all must lie down
To their dreamless repose in the gloom of the ground;
And the hearts, that are beating so warmly to-day,
Ere long will be changed to the cold, silent clay.
Ye careless! come nigh, and let fall a kind tear,
In this City of Silence; it is good to be here;
Shrink not from the thoughts that around you may crowd,
For yours is the coffin, the grave, and the shroud;
'Twill be yours to repose in the gloom of the earth,
'Twill be yours to leave vacant your place at the hearth,
Then shrink not, oh! shrink not, to tread this lone spot!
Come nigh, and remember mortality's lot.
To their dreamless repose in the gloom of the ground;
And the hearts, that are beating so warmly to-day,
Ere long will be changed to the cold, silent clay.
Ye careless! come nigh, and let fall a kind tear,
In this City of Silence; it is good to be here;
Shrink not from the thoughts that around you may crowd,
For yours is the coffin, the grave, and the shroud;
'Twill be yours to repose in the gloom of the earth,
'Twill be yours to leave vacant your place at the hearth,
Then shrink not, oh! shrink not, to tread this lone spot!
Come nigh, and remember mortality's lot.