Verse > Anthologies > Hamilton Fish Armstrong, ed. > The Book of New York Verse
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Hamilton Fish Armstrong, ed.  The Book of New York Verse.  1917.
 
In Trinity Churchyard at Sunset
By Thomas S. Jones, Jr.
 
HOW still they sleep within the city moil
  In their old churchyard with its sighing trees,
  Where sometimes through the din a twilight breeze
Makes one forget the busy streets of toil;
But they have little thought of worldly spoil        5
  Or the great gain of mortal victories,
  Their hopes, their dreams, are cold and dead as these
Quaint, time-worn gravestones crumbling on the soil.
 
Yet they once lived and struggled years ago;
  Their hearts beat madly as these hearts of ours—        10
    And now is all undone in dreamless rest?
See, a great city stands against the glow—
  Their city, they who here beneath the flowers
    Have known so long God’s gift of peace, most blest!
 
 
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