Classic Poem

I love to stand upon a hill;
I know not why 'tis dearer,
Unless, childlike, I fancy here
That heaven's a little nearer.

And so I linger here to-night,
Down looking on the city,
Whose soft-ascending murmur fills
My heart with awe and pity.

The weary thousands homeward go;
It fairly makes me dizzy
To think that in each moving form
A heart and brain are busy!

Oh, what a wondrous flood of men!
What weariness and weeping
To have one glorious glance at life
And then the unknown sleeping!

For who can help to question: Why?
And: Whither are we tending?
To send the query to the sky
And ask what is the ending?

The stars are wise, they will not speak,
Yet hopefully keep shining;
Shall I not, too, do well to wait
And watch without repining?

A glad boy whistles in the street,
The merry car bells jingle,
The gun booms o'er the bay: " All's well! "
Again my warm veins tingle.

Two lovers laugh and pass and then
The dusk around them closes,
While from a bush below the wall
I catch the breath of roses.

So, after all, what though we die
If still the sky is blue?
If roses still are fair and sweet,
And love is pure and true?