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.