Classic Poem

Of all who have crossed the river, and learned the eternal lore,
Not one has returned to tell us of the land on the other shore.

Not a single hand has lifted the curtain that hangs between;
Not a voice revealed the wonders that no human eye hath seen.

They know we are working, waiting and weeping along life's way,
But never come back to tell us how long we have still to stay.

Alas! have they all forgotten their old familiar friends?
Does the beautiful love they cherished expire where the earth-life ends?

Or still do they watch and tend us with a love refined, intense,
That eludes the dull perception of our grosser human sense?

There are, who have seen, in visions, the dead in their human guise,
With a pallid, shadowy glory on motionless lips and eyes;

But this was only in seeming — for if such a thing could be,
There is one, by the throne of heaven, who would sometimes come to me.

I questioned the stars, that wander through limitless realms of space,
And besought the Euroclydon to tell me her dwelling place.

The stars looked down through the darkness, the winds went wandering by —
Folded their wings where they listed, but made me never reply.

I have prayed and watched and waited, and called to Heaven her name,
And stilled my pulses to listen, but never an answer came.

Never the wave of a garment, nor a white wing passing by,
Nor fall of the lightest footstep, nor sound of the faintest sigh.

Never a luminous shadow, nor a whisper light as air,
Nor the sense of an unseen presence, answered my yearning prayer.

And the seers have all been dreaming — for if such a thing could be.
She would come from the throne of Heaven, for a little while, to me.