 | Poems |  |
173
SOON, SOON SHALL MY TOILING BARK.
Soon, soon shall my toiling bark touch on the shore,
Where the desolate heart shall be blest;
Where the surge of this long-troubling ocean no more
Shall deprive the worn spirit of rest.
Where the desolate heart shall be blest;
Where the surge of this long-troubling ocean no more
Shall deprive the worn spirit of rest.
Where no care for the past, and no fear for the morrow,
Shall oppress earth's tired wanderers—welcomed, forgiven—
Where the bark that hath rode through the dim waves of sorrow
Shall be anchored sublimely on shadowless heaven.
Shall oppress earth's tired wanderers—welcomed, forgiven—
Where the bark that hath rode through the dim waves of sorrow
Shall be anchored sublimely on shadowless heaven.
174
On! on! my frail bark, through the surge and the spray—
There's a beacon that beckons and leads from afar:
On! on! my weak bark, through thy perilous way—
There's above thee a heaven! and before thee a star!
There's a beacon that beckons and leads from afar:
On! on! my weak bark, through thy perilous way—
There's above thee a heaven! and before thee a star!
| Poems | |