Iii

Pass on, pass on, ye flashing files Of men who march in militant array; Ye thrilling bugles, throbbing drums, Ring out, roll on, and die away; And fade, ye crowds, with the fading day! Around the city's lofty piles Of steel and stone The lilac veil of dusk is thrown, Entangled full of sparks of fairy light; And the never-silent heart of the city hums To a homeward-turning tune before the night. But far above, on the sky-line's broken height, From all the towers and domes outlined In gray and gold along the city's crest, I see the rippling flag still take the wind With a promise of good to come for all mankind.