THE VOYAGE OF LIFE.
Oh, solemn is the ceaseless, silent flowOf that mysterious deep,—the sea of Time.Unfathomed are its depths; while all aroundEternity's far shores in grandeur rise.And now, where gently roll the placid waves'Neath morning's twilight, tremulous and pale,A little bark lies idle on the shore.Now in the holy stillness of the mornWe hear the rustling of seraphic wings:More tremulous the twilight shadows seem,And tremulous beneath the waters flow.Beams of soft light now the shore illume;Gleameth the bark like a beauteous pearl;By it the angel of life doth stand,White wings enfolding a fragile form.Gazes he now on the little bark,Then o'er the waters so vast and wide.Sadness a moment is o'er his soul.Soon o'er his visage, so calm and bright,Smiles of ineffable sweetness beam.White wings how tenderly now unfold,
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