Where the pulse of Wall Street beats,
Where the money changers go;
Where along the noisy streets
Runs the life tide, to and fro—
Busy life of old Broadway,
With its restless human sea—
Here I stop and muse to-day,
By the graves of Trinity.

Those beneath these quiet stones
One unending Sabbath keep,
And the great wheels jar their bones,
But they may not mar their sleep.
And they murmur not at all,
Morning, noon and night-time pass,
Rain and sun, and snow-flakes fall,
Careless footsteps tread the grass.

Childish fingers press the graves,
But these peaceful sleepers lie
(What a worry dying saves!)
Quiet under every sky.
Twittering bird and whispering elm!
Bird and dead man, each care free—
Here's long peace to both of them.
Citizens of Trinity!