A poor — torn heart — a tattered heart

A poor — torn heart — a tattered heart –
That sat it down to rest –
Nor noticed that the Ebbing Day
Flowed silver to the West –
Nor noticed Night did soft descend –
Nor Constellation burn –
Intent upon the vision
Of latitudes unknown.

The angels — happening that way
This dusty heart espied –
Tenderly took it up from toil
And carried it to God –
There — sandals for the Barefoot –
There — gathered from the gales –
Do the blue havens by the hand
Lead the wandering Sails.