By Evelyn H. Hughes
Doubt not, beloved, the justice of God’s way,
Though here beside the trail we two must part.
Oh, keep your faith serene, no trust betray –
No bitterness breed rancor in your heart.
Think not my journey futile ending here,
As westward all the wagons rumble past.
Each one gives his own gift. Remember, dear,
Beyond this waning hour our love shall last.
Only this mortal clay interred shall know
A rendezvous with darkness and its dread,
While winged, triumphant, my spirit shall go
Upward, where wait the deathless dead.
Oh, hand in hand, beloved, our journey won,
I shall go with you and our infant son!