There comes a time to every mortal being,
Whate'er his station or his lot in life,
When his sad soul yearns for the final freeing
From all this jarring and unlovely strife.
There comes a time when, having lost its savor,
The salt of wealth is worthless ; when the mind
Grows weary with the world's capricious favor,
And sighs for some thing that it does not find.
There comes a time when, though kind friends are thronging
About our pathway with sweet acts of grace,
We feel a vast overwhelming longing,
For something that we cannot name or place.
There comes a time when, with Earth's best love by us
To feed the heart's great hunger and desire,
We find not even this can satisfy us ;
The soul within us cries for something higher.
What greater proof need we that men inherit
A life immortal in another sphere ?
It is the homesick longing of the spirit
That cannot find its satisfaction here.
--Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Sacramento Daily Record-Union (8 Aug. 1885): 3.
Courtesy of John M. Freiermuth.
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