Apoor

A poor -- torn heart -- a tattered heart --

That sat it down to rest --

Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day

Flowed silver to the West --

Nor noticed Night did soft descend --

Nor Constellation burn --

Intent upon the vision

Of latitudes unknown.

The angels -- happening that way

This dusty heart espied --

Tenderly took it up from toil

And carried it to God --

There -- sandals for the Barefoot --

There -- gathered from the gales --

Do the blue havens by the hand

Lead the wandering Sails.

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