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 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
XXIX—THE UNKNOWN WAY
Two travelers met upon a plain
Where two straight, narrow pathways crossed;
They met and, with a still surprise,
They looked into each other's eyes
And knew that never, O, never again!
Could one from the other soul be lost.
Where two straight, narrow pathways crossed;
They met and, with a still surprise,
They looked into each other's eyes
And knew that never, O, never again!
Could one from the other soul be lost.
But lo! these narrow pathways lead
Now each from each apart, and lo!
In neither pathway can they go
Together, in their new, strange need.
Far-off the purple mountains loom,—
Vague and far-off, and fixt as fate,—
Which hide from sight that land unknown
Where, ever, like a carven stone
The setting sun doth stand and wait,
And men cry not: “Too late! too late!”
And sorrow turns to a golden gloom.
But O, the long journey all unled
By track of traveler o'er the plain—
The stony desert, bleak and rude,
The bruisèd feet and the tired brain;
And O, the twofold solitude,
The doubt, the danger, and the dread!
Now each from each apart, and lo!
In neither pathway can they go
Together, in their new, strange need.
27
Vague and far-off, and fixt as fate,—
Which hide from sight that land unknown
Where, ever, like a carven stone
The setting sun doth stand and wait,
And men cry not: “Too late! too late!”
And sorrow turns to a golden gloom.
But O, the long journey all unled
By track of traveler o'er the plain—
The stony desert, bleak and rude,
The bruisèd feet and the tired brain;
And O, the twofold solitude,
The doubt, the danger, and the dread!
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |