Another from the bookshelf

Photo of the author

There comes a time, when, having lost its savor, 
  The salt of wealth is worthless; when the mind
Grows wearied of the world's capricious favor,
  And sighs for something it cannot find.

There comes a time, when, kind friends are thronging
  About our pathway with acts of grace,
We feel a vast and overwhelming longing
  For something that we cannot name or place

There comes a time, when,  earth's best love by us,
  To feed the heart's great hunger and desire,
We find not even this can satisfy us;
  The soul within us cries for something higher.

What greater proof need we that we inherit
  A life immortal in another sphere?
It is the homesick longing of the spirit
  That cannot find its satisfaction here.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox