TIME AND ETERNITY
I never spoke with God,Nor visited in heaven;Yet certain am I of the spotAs if the chart were given.
XVIII
GOD permits industrious angelsAfternoons to play.I met one,—forgot my school-mates,All, for him, straightway.
God calls home the angels promptlyAt the setting sun;I missed mine. How dreary marbles,After playing Crown!
XIX
TO know just how he suffered would be dear;To know if any human eyes were nearTo whom he could intrust his wavering gaze,Until it settled firm on Paradise.
To know if he was patient, part content,Was dying as he thought, or different;Was it a pleasant day to die,And did the sunshine face his way?
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