Julia Richman

COME all who serve the city, all who serve

The glorious golden city of our dream,

With true heart-service that can never swerve,

How faint soe’er the strength or far the gleam—

Come sorrow proudly for our comrade passed

Into the silence: one who served indeed

In all things, even unto the least and last,

Spending herself to meet the moment’s need.

Share memories of that strong, illumined face,

Keen speech, and courage springing to the test,

And all the fervor of the ancient race

That finds its longed-for East in this young West.

Be this the sum, the last word best of all:

She built her life into the city wall.