Page:Poems Hoffman.djvu/368

FROM THE CITY OF THE LIVING
TO THE CITY OF THE DEAD

'Tis the tramp of mighty nations
Borne across the surging sea,
'Tis the tread of martialed armies
Echoed through immensity;
Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp,
Hark! I hear their heavy tread,
  From the city of the living
  To the city of the dead.

'Tis the tolling bell's low dirges,
Borne aloft on every breeze,
Rolling on in solemn surges
Over mountains, plains, and seas,
Tolling, tolling, softly tolling
While the short, swift years have fled,
  From the city of the living
  To the city of the dead.

From old ocean's rock-ribbed islands,
From Sahara's parching floors,
From fair Scotia's heath-clad highlands,
Or from Iceland's frozen shores,
Rolls that march in solemn measure
While the hosts of earth are led
  From the city of the living
  To the city of the dead.

Over Egypt's tombs and temples,
Over ashen Indian braves,
Over England's ivied abbeys,
Over old Peruvian graves,
Rolls the dirge that sadly follows
Each unto his silent bed
  From the city of the living
  To the city of the dead.

[ 338 ]