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LET me move slowly through the street
Filled with an ever-shifting train Amid the sound of steps that beat The murmuring walks like autumn rain. How fast the flitting figures come! The mild the fierce the stony1 face; Some bright with thoughtless smiles and some Where secret tears have left their trace. They pass—to toil2 to strife3 to rest; To halls in which the feast is spread; To chambers4 where the funeral guest In silence sits beside the dead. And some to happy homes repair Where children pressing cheek to cheek With mute caresses5 shall declare The tenderness they cannot speak. And some who walk in calmness here Shall shudder6 as they reach the door Where one who made their dwelling7 dear Its flower its light is seen no more. Youth with pale cheek and slender frame And dreams of greatness in thine eye! Go'st thou to build an early name Or early in the task to die? Keen son of trade with eager brow! Who is now fluttering in thy snare8? Thy golden fortunes tower they now Or melt the glittering spires9 in air? Who of this crowd to-night shall tread The dance till daylight gleam again? Who sorrow o'er the untimely dead? Who writhe10 in throes of mortal pain? Some famine-struck shall think how long The cold dark hours how slow the light; And some who flaunt11 amid the throng12 Shall hide in dens13 of shame to-night. Each where his tasks or pleasures call They pass and heed14 each other not. There is who heeds15 who holds them all In His large love and boundless16 thought. These struggling tides of life that seem In wayward aimless course to tend Are eddies17 of the mighty18 stream That rolls to its appointed end. 点击收听单词发音
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