Georgia Douglas Johnson, "The Final Strain" (1917)
Heart-sore and wearily,
Stood on her gleaming goal at length,
And sighed in ecstasy.
“O, God” I cried, “what bliss’-when lo!
Came stealing like a pall,
The strains of Life’s Last Symphony,
In Prelude, to–the call.
Published in The Crisis. January 1917