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WHAT though we sleep a thousand leagues apart,
I by my mountains, you beside your sea?
What though our moss-grown graves divided be
By the wide reaches of a continent's heart ?

When from long slumber we at length shall start
Wakened to stronger life, exultant, free,
This mortal clothed in immortality,
Where shall I find my heaven save where thou art?

Straight as a bird that hasteth to its nest,
Glad as an eagle soaring to the light,
Swift as the thought that bears my soul to thine

When yon lone star hangs trembling in the west,
So straight, so glad, so swift to thee my flight,
Led on through farthest space by love divine !


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