While The Billy BoilsSearchGrandmother sits, when the light is fadingBehind the western horizon bars,When come the spirits of sleep invadingThe dreamy dusk of the world of stars.
Grandmother looks, when the lights are failing,Failing, failing o’er field and lawn,Out through the dark where the ships are sailingTo a haven of rest in a rose-red dawn.
Trembles a song in the silence, linkingThe world-old past with the yet to be,Like harbour lights thro’ the sea-mists blinking,The old, old music, “Abide with me.”
Grandmother sits where the veil is lifting,And life and death are the self-same bond —Twin pilots now, when her barque is driftingToward the silent bar of the Great Beyond.
Soft shine the stars in the dreamland meadows,Where the gleaners whisper of ways that part,And sheaves that withered behind the shadowsWhere the hot life seethes in the old world’s heart.
Grandmother sits with her world behind her,Where the shadows tremble on life’s worn way,Straining dim eyes through the mists that blind her,Where a lone star gleams in a world of gray.
In the vale of the shadows the children, sobbing,Tell of lost treasures the years sweep o’er,And the hearts of men through the years are throbbingWith the old life-hunger for evermore.
But Grandmother looks, when the lights are failing,Failing, failing o’er field and lawn,Out through the dark where the ships are sailingTo a haven of rest in a rose-red dawn.