Singers
"Nay, the city is festive. Bells are clanging.
At every doorway garlands are seen.
Between the houses festoons are hanging,
The street is all like an arbor of green.
A forest of flags on the house-tops is swaying
And streamers by thousands and thousands are playing.
The mightiest pennon gleams and arches
From the golden vane of the steeple.
Like brothers below pass the people,
For rich man with poor man marches.
They meet not for strife but for shaking of hands,
As now are gathered the reaper bands
For the haying-feast at midsummer time.
Then my daughter's daughter shall climb
To the bell where the rafters sway,
And, brown of hue and young and strong
As I, shall ring in the brothering-day."
Ding! Dong!
"Then, drawn by white horses with plumes of white
At a walk, a carriage comes in sight,
A carriage with silvered wagon-prong."
Ding! Dong!
"Around it are children in white arrayed.
The rain of flowers has overlaid
So deeply the stones of the street below
That softly the wheels as on carpets go.
On the carriage, the goal of every eye
Stands a mighty cup exalted high,
At every doorway garlands are seen.
Between the houses festoons are hanging,
The street is all like an arbor of green.
A forest of flags on the house-tops is swaying
And streamers by thousands and thousands are playing.
The mightiest pennon gleams and arches
From the golden vane of the steeple.
Like brothers below pass the people,
For rich man with poor man marches.
They meet not for strife but for shaking of hands,
As now are gathered the reaper bands
For the haying-feast at midsummer time.
Then my daughter's daughter shall climb
To the bell where the rafters sway,
And, brown of hue and young and strong
As I, shall ring in the brothering-day."
Ding! Dong!
"Then, drawn by white horses with plumes of white
At a walk, a carriage comes in sight,
A carriage with silvered wagon-prong."
Ding! Dong!
"Around it are children in white arrayed.
The rain of flowers has overlaid
So deeply the stones of the street below
That softly the wheels as on carpets go.
On the carriage, the goal of every eye
Stands a mighty cup exalted high,
112
