What though upon a wintry sea our life bark sails, <br />What though we tremble 'neath its cruel gales, <br />Its icy blast; <br />We see a happy port lie far before, <br />We see its shining waves, its sunny shore, <br />Where we shall wander, and forget the troubled past, <br />At last. <br /> <br />No storms approach that quiet shore, no night <br />Falls on its silver streams, and valleys bright, <br />And gardens vast; <br />Within that pleasant land of perfect peace <br />Our toil-worn feet shall stay, our wanderings cease; <br />There shall we, resting, all forget the past, <br />At last. <br /> <br />The sorrows we have hid in silent weariness, <br />As birds above a wounded, bleeding breast, <br />Their bright plumes cast; <br />The griefs like mourners in a dark array, <br />That haunt our footsteps here, will flee away, <br />And leave us to forget the sorrowful past, <br />At last. <br /> <br />Voices we loved sound from those far-off lands, <br />And thrill our hearts; life's golden sands <br />Are dropping fast; <br />Soon shall we meet by the river of peace, and say, <br />As the night flees before the eye of day, <br />So faded from our eyes the mournful past, <br />At last.<br /><br />Marietta Holley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-last-38/
