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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.