(March 14, 1889.)
A little while, my friends, and I am lying
Beneath the sod that tells us Spring is nigh;
And I, who've found this life no rest supplying,
Shall lay my task aside without a sigh.
A little while, and friends who kindly greet me
Shall seek my place—in tears shall seek in vain;
And those whose love and tender thought now meet me,
Shall say—"She comes, our friend, no more again!"
A little while—and oh, how great the yearning
To lay the burden down, to be as free
As bird that hails its nest, on wing returning;
So do I think, beloved, of rest and thee!
The rest my weary heart and soul have waited
Through all these years of sorrow and of doubt;
As traveller on his homeward way, belated,
Impatient seeks and can not bide without.
And thee! Oh loved one gone, this year, before me,
Unto a world of light and rapture pure;
The thought of thee doth, smiling, now allure me
To draw more close and yet to more endure!