AMBERGRIS 
27 
Heaven is not very far ; 
Soul unto soul may be calling 
When a swift meteor star 
Through the quick vista is falling. 
Loose but your soul—shall its wings find the white 
way so appalling ? 
 
Heaven, as I understand, 
Nearer than some folk would make it ! 
God—should you stretch out a hand, 
Who can be quicker to take it ? 
Then you have pacted an oath—judge you if He will 
forsake it ! 
 
I have had hope in the spring— 
Trust that the God who has given 
Flowers, and the thrushes that sing 
Dawnwards all night, and at even 
Year after year, will be true now we are speaking of 
heaven.