And what will the last sight be of life
As lone we fare and fast?
Grief and the face we love in mist—
Then night and awe too vast?
Or the dear light of Hope—like that,
O see, from the lost shore
Kindling and calling "Onward, you
Shall reach the Evermore!"
[SILENCE]
Silence is song unheard,
Is beauty never born,
Is light forgotten—left unstirred
Upon Creation's morn.