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A Hundred Years to Come - An 1857 Poem
By R.G.T.; Washington, June 26, 1857.
- Where will be the birds that sing,
- A hundred years to come?
- The flowers that now in beauty spring,
- A hundred years to come?
- The rosy lip,
- The lofty brow,
- The heart that beats
- So gaily now —
- O where will be love's beaming eye
- Joy's pleasant smiles and sorrow's sigh,
- A hundred years to come?
-
- Who'll press for gold this crowded street
- A hundred years to come?
- Who'll tread yon church with willing feet
- A hundred years to come?
- Pale trembling age
- And fiery youth,
- And childhood, with
- Its brow of truth
- The rich and poor, on land and sea
- Where will the mighty millions be
- A hundred years to come?
-
- We all within our graves shall sleep
- A hundred years to come!
- No living soul for us will weep
- A hundred years to come!
- But other men
- Our lands will till,
- And others then
- Our streets will fill;
- While other birds will sing as gay,
- As bright the sunshine as to-day,
- A hundred years to come!
August 18, 1857. Sacramento Daily Union 13(1995): 4. From the National Intelligencer.