Far away is the land of rest Thousand miles are stretched between Many a mountain's stormy crest Many a desert void of green Wasted worn is the traveller Dark his heart and dim his eye Without hope or comforter Faltering faint and ready to die Often he looks to the ruthless sky Often he looks o'er his dreary road Often he wishes down to lie And render up life's tiresome load But yet faint not mournful man Leagues on leagues are left behind Since your sunless course began Then go on to toil resigned If you still despair control Hush its whispers in your breas[t] You shall reach the final goal You shall win the land of rest | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SWAN AND THE GOOSE by AESOP NIGHT, FR. SONGS OF INNOCENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE LOST SHEEP by ELIZABETH CECILIA CLEPHANE JOHN BROWN'S BODY by CHARLES SPRAGUE HALL THE OLD BURYING-GROUND by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER MARATHON, SELECTION by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES |