A HUNDRED YEARS TO COME
WHERE, 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 cheek,The lofty brow,The heart that beatsSo gaily now:Where, where will be our hopes and fears,Joy's pleasant smiles and Sorrow's tears,A hundred years to come?Who'll press for gold this crowded street,A hundred years to come?Who'll tread yon aisles with willing feet,A hundred years to come?Pale, trembling Age,And fiery Youth,And Childhood withIts brow of truth;The rich, the poor, on land and sea,Where will the mighty millions be,A hundred years to come?We all within our graves will sleep,A hundred years to come;No living soul for us will weep,A hundred years to come;But other menOur homes will fill,And others thenOur lands will till,And other birds will sing as gay,And bright the sunshine as to-day,A hundred years to come.
WHERE, 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 cheek,The lofty brow,The heart that beatsSo gaily now:Where, where will be our hopes and fears,Joy's pleasant smiles and Sorrow's tears,A hundred years to come?Who'll press for gold this crowded street,A hundred years to come?Who'll tread yon aisles with willing feet,A hundred years to come?Pale, trembling Age,And fiery Youth,And Childhood withIts brow of truth;The rich, the poor, on land and sea,Where will the mighty millions be,A hundred years to come?We all within our graves will sleep,A hundred years to come;No living soul for us will weep,A hundred years to come;But other menOur homes will fill,And others thenOur lands will till,And other birds will sing as gay,And bright the sunshine as to-day,A hundred years to come.
WHERE, 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 cheek,The lofty brow,The heart that beatsSo gaily now:Where, where will be our hopes and fears,Joy's pleasant smiles and Sorrow's tears,A hundred years to come?
WHERE, 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 cheek,
The lofty brow,
The heart that beats
So gaily now:
Where, where will be our hopes and fears,
Joy's pleasant smiles and Sorrow's tears,
A hundred years to come?
Who'll press for gold this crowded street,A hundred years to come?Who'll tread yon aisles with willing feet,A hundred years to come?Pale, trembling Age,And fiery Youth,And Childhood withIts brow of truth;The rich, the poor, on land and sea,Where will the mighty millions be,A hundred years to come?
Who'll press for gold this crowded street,
A hundred years to come?
Who'll tread yon aisles with willing feet,
A hundred years to come?
Pale, trembling Age,
And fiery Youth,
And Childhood with
Its brow of truth;
The rich, the poor, on land and sea,
Where will the mighty millions be,
A hundred years to come?
We all within our graves will sleep,A hundred years to come;No living soul for us will weep,A hundred years to come;But other menOur homes will fill,And others thenOur lands will till,And other birds will sing as gay,And bright the sunshine as to-day,A hundred years to come.
We all within our graves will sleep,
A hundred years to come;
No living soul for us will weep,
A hundred years to come;
But other men
Our homes will fill,
And others then
Our lands will till,
And other birds will sing as gay,
And bright the sunshine as to-day,
A hundred years to come.