THE presence of perpetual change Is ever on the earth; To-day is only as the soil That gives to-morrow birth. Where stood the tower there grows the weed; Where stood the weed the tower: No present hour its likeness leaves To any future hour. Of each imperial city built Far on the eastern plains, A desert waste of tomb and sand Is all that now remains. Our own fair city filled with life, Has yet a future day, When power, and might, and majesty, Will yet have passed away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINCOLN by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY BURIAL OF THE MINNISINK by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW AMORETTI: 34 by EDMUND SPENSER PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 91 by EDWIN ARNOLD THE SHADOW OF THE YEARS by BERTON BRALEY |