Poems (Procter)/Sent to Heaven

by Adelaide Anne Procter

SENT TO HEAVEN.

HAD a message to send her,
 To her whom my soul loved best;
But I had my task to finish,
 And she was gone home to rest.

To rest in the far bright Heaven:
 O, so far away from here,
It was vain to speak to my darling,
 For I knew she could not hear!

I had a message to send her,
 So tender, and true, and sweet,
I longed for an Angel to bear it,
 And lay it down at her feet.

I placed it, one summer evening,
 On a Cloudlet's fleecy breast;
But it faded in golden splendor,
 And died in the crimson west.

I gave it the Lark, next morning,
 And I watched it soar and soar;
But its pinions grew faint and weary,
 And it fluttered to earth once more.

To the heart of a Rose I told it;
 And the perfume, sweet and rare,
Growing faint on the blue bright ether,
 Was lost in the balmy air.

I laid it upon a Censer,
 And I saw the incense rise;
But its clouds of rolling silver
 Could not reach the far blue skies.

I cried, in my passionate longing:—
 "Has the earth no Angel-friend
Who will carry my Love the message
 That my heart desires to send?"

Then I heard a strain of music,
 So mighty, so pure, so clear,
That my very sorrow was silent,
 And my heart stood still to hear.

And I felt, in my soul's deep yearning,
 At last the sure answer stir:—
"The music will go up to Heaven,
 And carry my thought to her."

It rose in harmonious rushing
 Of mingled voices and strings,
And I tenderly laid my message
 On the Music's outspread wings.

I heard it float farther and farther,
 In sound more perfect than speech;
Farther than sight can follow,
 Farther than soul can reach.

And I know that at last my message
 Has passed through the golden gate:
So my heart is no longer restless,
 And I am content to wait.