10.08.2014, 12:46
A CITY CRY
HERE hoarsely moan the floods of human woe.
And evermore, along the busy streets.
The iron hoof of traffic loudly beats,
And lean-faced avarice shuffles to and fro ;
Here grudgingly the feet of mercy go
Where gaunt and grimy squalor sits and eats
Her bitter bread, and here, through foul retreats,
Death's noisome currents darkly ebb and flow.
O God, of those sweet airs which blow between
The emerald hills, let me e'er breathe ; keep me,
Far from the roaring city, in Thy green
And quiet solitudes, where I may see
The birds, the flowers, the grass, and sweetly lean
My heart upon the peace and love, of Thee.
HERE hoarsely moan the floods of human woe.
And evermore, along the busy streets.
The iron hoof of traffic loudly beats,
And lean-faced avarice shuffles to and fro ;
Here grudgingly the feet of mercy go
Where gaunt and grimy squalor sits and eats
Her bitter bread, and here, through foul retreats,
Death's noisome currents darkly ebb and flow.
O God, of those sweet airs which blow between
The emerald hills, let me e'er breathe ; keep me,
Far from the roaring city, in Thy green
And quiet solitudes, where I may see
The birds, the flowers, the grass, and sweetly lean
My heart upon the peace and love, of Thee.