Dumb hearts that have not known Love's bliss or bane,
Nor guessed what it may mean, yet yearning stand
Touching the border of the unknown land.
Hearing the silence stirred by that sweet strain
Of which their sad and prisoned souls are fain;
These, with wan faces, waiting the command,
Whose sound shall never break upon that strand,
Where, with the wind's breath, through the driven rain
Come memories of a life that was not theirs;
Vexed ghosts of hope, with cries unwearying,
Chilled with the darkness of unanswered prayers.
Worn with long watching through a youthless spring
By love and light forgotten. Shall these come
At last to God's peace and Love's perfect home?
