by Will Allen Dromgoole
An old man, going a lone
highway,
Came at the evening, cold
and gray
To a chasm, vast and deep
and wide,
Through which was flowing a
sullen tide.
The old man crossed in the
twilight dim.
But he turned when safe on
the other side
And built a bridge to span
the tide.
"Old Man," said a fellow
pilgrim near,
"You are wasting your
strength with building here;
Your journey will end with
the ending day;
You never again must pass
this way;
You have crossed the chasm,
deep and wide;
Why build you the bridge at
eventide?"
The builder lifted his old
gray head:
"Good friend in the path I
have come," he said
There followeth after me
today
A youth whose feet must
pass this way.
This chasm that has been
naught to me
To that fair-haired youth a
pitfall be
He, too, must cross in
twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building
the bridge for him."
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