MY heart it lies beyond, dear, <br /> In the land of the setting day, <br />Where the whispers are soft and fond, dear, <br /> Of the voices that pass away; <br />And oft, when the night is falling, <br />5 <br /> And a calm is on the sea, <br />I fancy I hear them calling <br /> rom that far-off land for me. <br />It is only idle dreaming, <br /> But the dream is full of rest, <br />10 <br />And up where that glory is streaming, <br /> From the gates of the golden west, <br />I wander away in spirit, <br /> With a mingled joy and pain, <br />Till I almost seem to inherit <br />15 <br /> The sweet dead past again. <br />I see the old dear faces, <br /> I greet them hand to hand; <br />But sadly too, for the places <br /> Seem strange in that curious land; <br />20 <br />Till a new light breaks, and all other <br /> Grows dim to my streaming eyes; <br />For a son has found his mother <br /> In the depths of the throbbing skies. <br />Yes, my heart it lies beyond, dear, <br />25 <br /> Where that sun is burning low, <br />And were you not so fond, dear, <br /> I might perhaps—but no! <br />Are you weary already with walking? <br /> And tears! What tears, dear, too! <br />30 <br />How selfish of me to be talking, <br /> My darling, in this way to you!<br /><br />Frederick George Scott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/beyond-50/
