By Charles Phillips
There is a hunger in my heart to-night,
A longing in my soul, to hear
The voice of heaven o’er the noise of earth
That doth assail mine ear.
For we are exiled children of the skies,
Lone and lost wanderers from home ...
The stars come out like lamps in windows lit
Far, far from where we roam;
Like candles lit to show the long late way,