John Hopkins Denison.
THE SHADOW OF THE WALL
Let us stay a while and listen to the voices of the past,
Softly echoing, vaguely lingering, e'er they fade away at last,
Dreaming in a dusky corner of the quaint, blue-panelled pew
While the massive walls of granite shut the hurrying crowds from view,
And the street's loud clang and clatter, screams of rage and cries of pain,
And the endless plodding, thudding, of tired feet in quest of gain