Mary Hannay Foott (1846 - 1918 / Australia)
She heard the story of the end,
Each message, too, she heard;
And there was one for every friend;
For her alone, no word.
And shall she bear a heavier heart,
And deem his love was fled;
Because his soul from earth could part
Leaving her name unsaid?
No, No! Though neither sign nor sound
A parting thought expressed,
Not heedless passed the Homeward-Bound
Of her he loved the best.
Of voyage-perils, bravely borne,
He would not tell the tale;
Of shattered planks and canvas torn,
And war with wind and gale.
He waited, till the light-house star
Should rise against the sky;
And from the mainland, looming far,
The forest scents blow by.
He hoped to tell, assurance sweet!
That pain and grief were o'er,
What blessings haste the soul to meet,
Ere yet within the door.
Then one farewell he thought to speak
When all the rest were past,
As in the parting-hour we seek
The dearest hand the last.
And while for this delaying but
To see Heaven's opening Gate,
Lo, it received him and was shut,
Ere he could say “I wait.”
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