Little Gray Songs from St. Joseph's - Part 46
Came one who told of Death's white steeds,
And of far goal on goal,
Where the ne'er-ceasing soul
O'ertakes new hopes, new needs.
O speak not of such after-quest;
Hint not of journeyings,
As they were joyful things—
My little soul would rest.
The anguished leagues that it has gone—
The path of pain each day:
Alas, how long the way
From dawn to dark—and dawn!
O Death may drive his steeds away,
My little soul would sleep;
My body would lie deep,
Nor journey on that day.
And of far goal on goal,
Where the ne'er-ceasing soul
O'ertakes new hopes, new needs.
O speak not of such after-quest;
Hint not of journeyings,
As they were joyful things—
My little soul would rest.
The anguished leagues that it has gone—
The path of pain each day:
Alas, how long the way
From dawn to dark—and dawn!
O Death may drive his steeds away,
My little soul would sleep;
My body would lie deep,
Nor journey on that day.
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