I do not think that Heaven will be strange
To those who walk the beauty-lanes of earth,
Drink from love's chalice, keep the spacious range
Of memory lilied with the joys of worth:
A bride beside the altar, coral strands,
A baby's smile and clinging little hands;
The tenderness in eyes time cannot mar;
A son returning safely from afar ...
For souls who hear each white bell as it chimes
And listen to the singing of a star,
Step in and out of Heaven many times.
Chromatones
