Poems (Trask)/Nearer

by Clara Augusta Jones Trask

NEARER.

One sweet and precious thought
 Comes to me every night,
When dying day flushes the west
 With blood-red gleams of light;
I'm nearer to the perfect life,
 Nearer the great To-Be,—
Nearer the night when peace shall come!
 Nearer, my love, to thee!

The winter's cruel cold
 Sweeps o'er thy graveyard bed;
The white snow hovers tenderly
 O'er thy unconscious head;
But peace and calm drop on my heart
 With each declining sun,
For then, I think, 'twill not be long
 Before we shall be one.

Through toil of hand and brain,
 And heaviness of heart,—
Through all these long-drawn years
 Since we have been apart,—
At each pale twilight's fall
 Along the woodlands dim,
Some spirit-voice has whispered me,
 "A day's length nearer him!"

Oh, Loved! and Lost! I wait,
 And dream of the To-Come!
In faith I'm trusting Death to bring
 Me to my one dear home.
And in the golden glow
 Upon that summer shore,
We shall clasp hands, to live and love
 Through all Forevermore.