Drifting
Olivia Ward Bush-Bank

And now sun is tinted splendor sank,
   The west was all aglow with crimson light;
The bay seemed like a sheet of burnished gold,
   Its waters glistened with such radiant bright.

At anchor lay the yachts with snow white sails,
   Outlined against the glowing, rose-hued sky,
No ripple stirred the winter's calm repose
   Save when a tiny craft sped lightly by,

Our boat was drifting slowly, gently round,
   To rest secure till evening shadows fell;
No sound disturbed the stillness of the air,
   Saved the soft chiming of the vesper bell.

Yes, drifting, drifting; and I thought that life,
   When nearing death, is like the sunset sky;
And death is but the slow, sure drifting in
   To rest far more securely, by and by.

Then let me drift along the bay of time,
   Till my last sun shall set in glowing light;
Let me cast anchor where no shadow fall,
   Forever moored within heaven's harbor bright.

Olivia Ward Bush-Bank was born on 2-27-1869,
in Sang Harbor New York. A poet, short story writer, 
journalist, she was the author of Original Poems
(Louis A. Basinet, 1899), and more. She died on 
4-8-1944.