Friday, July 19, 2013

Just thinking

I sit and think, when the sunset's gold 
Is flushing river, and hill,and shore,
I shall one day stand by the water cold,
And list for the sound of the boatman's oar;
I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail;
I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand;
I shall pass from sight, with the boatman pale,
To the better shore of the spirit land;
I shall know the loved who have gone before,
And joyfully sweet will the meeting be,
When over the river, the peaceful river,
The Angel of Death shall carry me. ---Nancy Priest Wakefield 1836-1870

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