Friends, I Will Not Cease
Friends, I will not cease hoping though you weep. Such things I see, and some of them shall come, Though now or streets are harsh and ashen-gray, Though our strong youths are strident now, or dumb. Friends, that sweet town, that wonder-town, shall rise. Naught can delay it. Though it may not be Just as I dream, it comes at last I know, With streets like channels of an incense-sea.
From "The Amaranth" by Vachel Lindsay, 1914.