A Land Without a Storm

Traveler

whi­ther art thou go­ing

Heedless of the clouds that form?

Naught to me the wind’s rough blow­ing

Mine’s a land with­out a storm.

And I’m go­ing

yes

I’m go­ing

To that land that has no storms;

And I’m go­ing

yes

I’m go­ing

To that land that has no storms

Traveler

art thou here a strang­er

Not to fear the tem­pest’s pow­er?

I have not a thought of dan­ger

Tho’ the sky may dark­ly low­er.

Traveler

now a mo­ment lin­ger

Soon the dark­ness will be o’er.

No! I see a beck­on­ing fin­ger

Guiding to a far-off shore.

Traveler

yon­der nar­row por­tal

Opens to re­ceive thy form.

Yes

but I shall be im­mor­tal

In that land with­out a storm.