[A very aged man in an almshouse was asked what he was doing now. He replied, “Only waiting.”]
ONLY waiting till the shadows
Are a little longer grown,
Only waiting till the glimmer
Of the day’s last beam is flown;
Till the night of earth is faded...
as one by one the singers of our land,
Summoned away by Death’s unfailing dart,
Unto the greater mystery depart,
Sadly we watch them from the desolate strand,
Oh! who shall fill their places in the band
Of tuneful voices? Who with equal art...
I
among the thousand, thousand spheres that roll,
Wheel within wheel, through never-ending space,
A mighty and interminable race,
Yet held by some invisible control,
And led as to a sure and shining goal,
One star alone, with still, unchanging face...
