Musings in Maoriland
The Other Side
The Other Side.
As we watch the deep grey shadows
Stealing upwards from the west,
When the flow'rets in the meadows
Lock their pearls and go to rest,
Soaring far beyond the real,
Oft we view on fancy's tide
Phantom crews, in boats ideal,
Sailing from the other side.
When the midnight gusts are sighing—
Sighing through the saplings tall,
Tapers dim, and embers dying,
Paint weird shadows on the wall,
Treasured forms start up before us,
Softly through the room they glide,
And we hear, in loving chorus,
Voices from the other side.
Who shall say, in vile derision,
"There is nought but clod to clod?"
Slavelings of a stunted vision,
Ye cannot discover God.
Fenced within your narrow hedges,
Truth ye have not yet descried—
Ye have no immortal pledges
Coming from the other side.