 | The Last Ballad and Other Poems |  |
155
THE PIONEER
Why, he never can tell;
But, without a doubt,
He knows very well
He must trample out
Through forest and fell
The world about
A way for himself,
A way for himself.
But, without a doubt,
He knows very well
He must trample out
Through forest and fell
The world about
A way for himself,
A way for himself.
By sun and star,
Forlorn and lank,
O'er cliff and scar,
O'er bog and bank,
He hears afar
The expresses clank,
“You'll never get there,
You'll never get there!”
Forlorn and lank,
O'er cliff and scar,
O'er bog and bank,
He hears afar
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“You'll never get there,
You'll never get there!”
His bones and bread
Poor Turlygod
From his wallet spread
On the grass-green sod,
And stared and said
With a mow and a nod,
“Whither away, sir,
Whither away?”
Poor Turlygod
From his wallet spread
On the grass-green sod,
And stared and said
With a mow and a nod,
“Whither away, sir,
Whither away?”
“I'm going alone,
Though Hell forfend,
By a way of my own
To the bitter end.”
He gnawed a bone
And snarled, “My friend,
You'll soon get there,
You'll soon get there.”
Though Hell forfend,
By a way of my own
To the bitter end.”
He gnawed a bone
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You'll soon get there,
You'll soon get there.”
But whether or no,
The world is round;
And he still must go
Through depths profound,
O'er heights of snow,
On virgin ground
To find a grave,
To find a grave.
The world is round;
And he still must go
Through depths profound,
O'er heights of snow,
On virgin ground
To find a grave,
To find a grave.
For he knows very well
He must trample out
Through Heaven and Hell,
With never a doubt,
A way of his own
The world about.
He must trample out
Through Heaven and Hell,
With never a doubt,
A way of his own
The world about.
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