Oh, where will be the birds that sing, <br />A hundred years to come? <br />The flowers that now in beauty spring, <br />A hundred years to come? <br />The rosy lip, the lofty brow, <br />The heart that beats so gaily now,-- <br />Oh, where will be love's beaming eye, <br />Joy's pleasant smile, and sorrow's sigh, <br />A hundred years to come? <br /> <br />Who'll press for gold this crowded street, <br />A hundred years to come? <br />Who'll tread yon church with willing feet, <br />A hundred years to come? <br />Pale, trembling age, and fiery youth, <br />And childhood with its brow of truth, <br />The rich and poor, on land and sea,-- <br />Where will the mighty millions be, <br />A hundred years to come? <br /> <br />We all within our graves shall sleep, <br />A hundred years to come; <br />No living soul for us will weep <br />A hundred years to come; <br />But other men our lands shall till, <br />And others then our streets shall fill, <br />While other birds shall sing as gay, <br />As bright the sunshine as today, <br />A hundred years to come!<br /><br />Hiram Ladd Spencer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-hundred-years-to-come/
