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 lips

the lof­ty brow

The heart that beats so gai­ly now;

O where will be love’s beam­ing eye

Joy’s plea­sant smile

and sor­row’s sigh

A hun­dred years to come?

Who’ll press for gold this crowd­ed street

A hun­dred years to come?

Who’ll tread yon church with will­ing feet

A hun­dred years to come?

Pale

trem­bling age

and fie­ry youth

And child­hood with its heart 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 shall sleep

A hun­dred years to come;

No liv­ing soul for us will weep

A hun­dred years to come;

But oth­er men our lands will till

And oth­ers then our streets will fill

While oth­er birds will sing as gay

And bright the sun shine as to­day

A hund­red years to come.