A Woman Of The Century

Only waiting till the shadows

Are a little longer grown;

Only waiting till the glimmer

Of the day's last beam is flown;

Till the night of earth is faded

From this heart once full of day,

Till the dawn of Heaven is breaking

Through the twilight soft and gray.

Only waiting till the reapers

Have the last sheaf gathered home,

For the summer time hath faded

And the autumn winds are come.

Quickly, reapers, gather quickly

The last ripe hours of my heart,

For the bloom of life is withered,

And I hasten to depart.

Frances Laughton Mace
"A Woman Of The Century"

Only waiting till the angels

Open wide the mystic gate,

At whose feet I long have lingered,

Weary, poor and desolate.

Even now I hear their footsteps

And their voice far away;

If they call me I am waiting,

Only waiting to obey.

Only waiting till the shadows

Are a little longer grown;

Only waiting till the glimmer

Of the day's last beam is flown;

Then from out the folded darkness

Holy, deathless stars shall rise,

By whose light my soul will gladly

Wing her passage to the skies.

"Only Waiting"

Frances Laughton Mace

(1836-1899)

American Poet