A human soul went forth into the night,
Shutting behind it Death's mysterious door,
And shaking off with strange, resistless
The dust that once it wore.
So swift its flight, so suddenly it sped--
As when by skillful hand a bow is bent
The arrow flies--those watching round the
Marked not the way it went.
Through the clear silence of the moonless
Leaving no footprint of the road it trod,
Straight as an arrow cleaving to its mark,
The Soul went home to God.
"Alas!" they cried, "he never saw the morn
But fell asleep outwearied with the
Nay, rather, he arose and met the dawn
Of everlasting life.
"My Flight For Heaven"