Upon the shore
Of Evermore,
We sport, like children at their play;
And gather shells
Where sinks and swells
The mighty sea from far away.
Upon that beach,
Nor voice nor speech
Doth things intelligible say;
But through our souls
A whisper rolls,
That comes to us from far away.
Into our ears
The voice of years
Comes deeper, deeper, day by day:
We stoop to hear,
As it draws near,
Its awfulness from far away.
At what it tells,
We drop the shells
We were so fond of yesterday;
And pick no more
Upon that shore,
But dream of brighter, far away.
And o’er that tide,
Far out and wide,
The yearnings of our souls do stray:
We long to go,
We do not know
Where it may be, but far away.
The mighty deep
Doth slowly creep
Up on the shore where we did play;
The very sand,
Where we did stand
A moment since, swept far away.
We’ll trust the wave,
And Him to save,
Beneath whose feet as marble lay
The rolling deep;
For He can keep
Our souls, in that dim far away.
– From Fraser’s Magazine, The Distant Shore, “The land that is very far off”
The Distant Shore
MorningMeds, Poetry / Friday, August 4th, 2023
