| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XIV. This Is Thy Hour
Dying | | By Roden Berkeley Wriothesley Noel (1834–1894) |
| | | THEY are waiting on the shore | |
| For the bark to take them home; | |
| They will toil and grieve no more; | |
| The hour for release hath come. | |
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| All their long life lies behind, | 5 |
| Like a dimly blending dream; | |
| There is nothing left to bind | |
| To the realms that only seem. | |
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| They are waiting for the boat, | |
| There is nothing left to do; | 10 |
| What was near them grows remote, | |
| Happy silence falls like dew; | |
| Now the shadowy bark is come, | |
| And the weary may go home. | |
| |
| By still water they would rest, | 15 |
| In the shadow of the tree; | |
| After battle sleep is best, | |
| After noise tranquillity. | | | | |
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