There's traffic in the worlds immortal,
⁠For many souls are flying home,
Striving and pushing at the portal
⁠For sight of glorious things to come.

What rout of wings against the sunset?
⁠What rosy plumes the dawning bar?
Heaven's stormed with gay and happy onset
⁠Of youngling things home from the War.

Against the inverted cup of azure,
⁠Against the evening, peach and green,
The frolicsome young souls take their pleasure,
⁠Darting the silver stars between.

Though the old nests be sad, forsaken,
⁠The cotes of Heaven are yet unfilled:
In trees of Heaven as yet untaken
⁠The immortal Loves lift hearts and build.