I had a Message to send her, To her whom my soul loved best; But I had my task to finish. And she was gone home to rest.
To rest in the far bright heaven: Oh, so far away from here, It was vain to speak to my darling, For I knew she could not hear!
I had a message to send her. So tender, and true, and sweet, I longed for an Angel to bear it, And lay it down at her feet.
I placed it, one summer evening, On a Cloudlet's fleecy breast; But it faded in golden splendour, And died in the crimson west.
I gave it the Lark next morning, And I watched it soar and soar; But its pinions grew faint and weary, And it fluttered to earth once more.
To the heart of a Rose I told it; And the perfume, sweet and rare, Growing faint on the blue bright ether, Was lost in the balmy air.
I laid it upon a Censer, And I saw the incense rise; But its clouds of rolling silver Could not reach the far blue skies.
I cried, in my passionate longing: - “Has the earth no Angel-friend Who will carry my love the message That my heart desires to send?”
Then I heard a strain of music, So mighty, so pure, so clear, That my very sorrow was silent, And my heart stood still to hear.
And I felt, in my soul's deep yearning, At last the sure answer stir: - “The music will go up to Heaven, And carry my thought to her.”
It rose in harmonious rushing Of mingled voices and strings. And I tenderly laid my message On the Music's outspread wings.
I heard it float farther and farther, In sound more perfect than speech; Farther than sight can follow. Farther than soul can reach.
And I know that at last my message Has passed through the golden gate: So my heart is no longer restless, And I am content to wait.
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