A golden stairway leads to the stars,
Whence comes music on golden bars
Sometimes near, oft?times afar,
Elusive to the human ear,
This music of some other sphere.
Like a face I discerned ? yet not made clear.
Like a pool, so still and deep.
Awaiting wakening from its sleep
Then, at last, the slumber breaks,
On some new shore a dawning waits,
Then ? will this music ? now ever near,
Enfolding all in loving arms,
Bid them welcome,
To the Promised Land.
© Elizabeth Anderson 1958
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