Poems (Hoffman)/The Multitude
THE MULTITUDE
They come and go, this world's uncounted throngs,
Each on his individual aim intent;
They come and go, 'till in the gathering shades
For each, life's little fleeting day is spent;
As one by one they come, a mingled host
Born to earth's heritage of life and breath,
So one by one they go, a countless throng;
Let pride and honor trample underneath
The lowly lot of poverty and toil,
Death spareth not the wealthy or the poor;
But claims them all,
To the same dust they go; impartial hands
Strew with fresh sunbeams each lone resting place,
Reflected sunsets and supernal morns
Wrap all alike in floods of loveliness.
Each on his individual aim intent;
They come and go, 'till in the gathering shades
For each, life's little fleeting day is spent;
As one by one they come, a mingled host
Born to earth's heritage of life and breath,
So one by one they go, a countless throng;
Let pride and honor trample underneath
The lowly lot of poverty and toil,
Death spareth not the wealthy or the poor;
But claims them all,
To the same dust they go; impartial hands
Strew with fresh sunbeams each lone resting place,
Reflected sunsets and supernal morns
Wrap all alike in floods of loveliness.