Interlude by Annie Fellows Johnston — Read

WITHIN the pauses of the anthem falls a hush, / And the deep organ's solemn voice goes on alone / In a low undertone, / As rain comes sometimes with a sudden sweeping rush, / And then is still, save that it slowly drips and falls / From leaves at intervals.

So memory sings alone / Between the busy hours when comes a lull, / And naught is audible / But its low undertone.

So darkness drops between the days, an interlude / When night's low sighing stirs the sleepy solitude.

So, when the little cycle of this life is rounded, / Before the spirit enters into life unbounded, / It waits to hear, with bated breath, / The solemn interlude of death.