Carl Sandburg sets two famous graves—Alexander Hamilton’s and Robert Fulton’s—inside the everyday noise of lower Manhattan. Stenographers, bundle boys, and scrubwomen sit on the tombstones and walk over the grass, talking about war, weather, babies, wages, and love. Just beyond the iron fence, Broadway crowds move like a human river toward the sea. The speaker’s tone is calm and observant, not mocking or overly reverent. There’s something almost affectionate in how the living casually share space with the dead. The repeated line that Hamilton and Fulton sleep “easy” gives the poem a quiet, accepting mood. Their grand achievements—governments, steamboats—have settled into history, but the city keeps streaming past them. Peace here means greatness resting under ordinary life, neither forgotten nor anxiously remembered.
Trinity Peace — Summary
The grave of Alexander Hamilton is in Trinity yard at the end of Wall Street. The grave of Robert Fulton likewise is in Trinity yard where Wall Street stops. And in this yard stenogs, bundle boys, scrubwomen, sit on the tombstones, and walk on the grass of graves, speaking of war and weather, of babies, wages and love. An iron picket fence . . . and streaming thousands along Broadway sidewalks . . . straw hats, faces, legs ... a singing, talking, hustling river . . . down the great street that ends with a Sea. . . . easy is the sleep of Alexander Hamilton. . . . easy is the sleep of Robert Fulton. . . . easy are the great governments and the great steamboats.