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The
Soul's Quest and Other Poems
by
Frederick George Scott
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BEYOND
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MY heart
it lies beyond, dear,
In the land of the setting
day,
Where the whispers are soft and fond, dear,
Of the voices that pass
away;
And oft, when the night is falling,
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And
a calm is on the sea,
I fancy I hear them calling
rom that far-off land for
me.
It is only idle dreaming,
But the dream is full
of rest,
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And
up where that glory is streaming,
From the gates of the golden
west,
I wander away in spirit,
With a mingled joy and pain,
Till I almost seem to inherit
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sweet dead past again.
I see the old dear faces,
I greet them hand to hand;
But sadly too, for the places
Seem strange in that curious
land;
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Till
a new light breaks, and all other
Grows dim to my streaming
eyes;
For a son has found his mother
In the depths of the throbbing
skies.
Yes, my heart it lies beyond, dear,
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Where
that sun is burning low,
And were you not so fond, dear,
I might perhaps—but
no!
Are you weary already with walking?
And tears! What tears, dear,
too!
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How
selfish of me to be talking,
My darling, in this way
to you!
1886.
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