What is it that sometimes speaks in the soul
so calmly,so clearly
that its earthly time is short?
Is it the secret instinct of decaying nature
or the soul's impulsive throb,
as immortality draws on?
Be it what it may,
it rested in the heart of Eva,
a calm,sweet
prophetic certainty that Heaven was near;
calm as the light of sunset,
sweet as the bright stillness of autumn,
there her little heart resposed,
only troubled by sorrow
for those who loved her so dearly.
......