Does life, like distance, take away
More than ever it can pay?
Does it, as day's immured by night,
Incarcerate the spirit's light?
And shall the great dawn, death, redeem
Us from this state where we but dream?
Vainly we an answer crave
While we journey to the grave,
Blinded by the dust and strife
That surround this baffling life,
Blinded by the sensual haze
That enwraps our mortal days.

But, beyond the dusk of distance
And the mists that veil existence,
There, we feel, a Country lies
Free of sense—a Paradise
Where clear summits rise supreme
Lovelier than lands of dream!
Fain our longing eyes would glean
Glimpses of those peaks serene;
Fain our longing ears would hear
Echoes from that radiant sphere,
Thus, the soul is strangely stirred
When we hear a hidden bird
Singing in some leafy grove
Eager songs of earthly love.