Poems of Progress by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
page 5 of 107 (04%)
page 5 of 107 (04%)
|
Not many spirits in that realm are waiting;
Not many pause upon its shores to rest; For only love, intense and unabating, Can hold them from the longer, higher quest. And after grief has wept itself to sleep, Few hearts on earth their vital memories keep. Should I pass on, across the mystic border, Let thy love link me to that pallid land; I would not seek the heavens of finer order Until thy barque had left this coarser strand. How desolate such journeyings would be, Though straight to Him, were they not shared by thee. Wert thou first called (dear God, how could I bear it?) I should enchain thee with my love, I know. Not great enough am I to free thy spirit From all these tender ties, and bid thee go. Nor would a soul, unselfish as thine own, Forget so soon, and speed to heaven alone. On earth we find no joy in ways diverging; How could we find it in the worlds unseen? I know old memories from my bosom surging, Would keep thee waiting in that Land Between, Until together, side by side, we trod A path of stars, in our great search for God. |
|