I SAID the Watcher by the Way | |
| To the young and the unladen, | |
| To the boy and to the maiden, | |
| God be with you both to-day. | |
| First your song came ringing, | 5 |
| Now you come, you two, | |
| Knowing naught of what you do, | |
| Or of what your dreams are bringing. | |
| |
| O you children who go singing | |
| To the Town down the River, | 10 |
| Where the millions cringe and shiver, | |
| Tell me what you know to-day; | |
| Tell me how far you are going, | |
| Tell me how you find your way. | |
| O you children who go dreaming, | 15 |
| Tell me what you dream to-day. | |
| |
| He is old and we have heard him, | |
| Said the boy then to the maiden; | |
| He is old and heavy laden | |
| With a load we throw away. | 20 |
| Care may come to find us, | |
| Age may lay us low; | |
| Still, we seek the light we know, | |
| And the dead we leave behind us. | |
| |
| Did he think that he would blind us | 25 |
| Into such a small believing | |
| As to live without achieving, | |
| When the lights have led so far? | |
| Let him watch or let him wither, | |
| Shall he tell us where we are? | 30 |
| We know best who go together, | |
| Downward, onward, and so far. | |
| |
II SAID the Watcher by the Way | |
| To the fiery folk that hastened, | |
| To the loud and the unchastened, | 35 |
| You are strong, I see, to-day. | |
| Strength and hope may lead you | |
| To the journeys end, | |
| Each to be the others friend | |
| If the Town should fail to need you. | 40 |
| |
| And are ravens there to feed you | |
| In the Town down the River, | |
| Where the gift appalls the giver | |
| And youth hardens day by day? | |
| O you brave and you unshaken, | 45 |
| Are you truly on your way? | |
| And are sirens in the River, | |
| That you come so far to-day? | |
| |
| You are old, and we have listened, | |
| Said the voice of one who halted; | 50 |
| You are sage and self-exalted, | |
| But your way is not our way. | |
| You that cannot aid us | |
| Give us words to eat. | |
| Be assured that they are sweet, | 55 |
| And that we are as God made us. | |
| |
| Not in vain have you delayed us, | |
| Though the River still be calling | |
| Through the twilight that is falling | |
| And the Town be still so far. | 60 |
| By the whirlwind of your wisdom | |
| Leagues are lifted as leaves are; | |
| But a king without a kingdom | |
| Fails us, who have come so far. | |
| |
III SAID the Watcher by the Way | 65 |
| To the slower folk who stumbled, | |
| To the weak and the world-humbled, | |
| Tell me how you fare to-day. | |
| Some with ardor shaken, | |
| All with honor scarred, | 70 |
| Do you falter, finding hard | |
| The far chance that you have taken? | |
| |
| Or, do you at length awaken | |
| To an antic retribution, | |
| Goading to a new confusion | 75 |
| The drugged hopes of yesterday? | |
| O you poor mad men that hobble, | |
| Will you not return, or stay? | |
| Do you trust, you broken people, | |
| To a dawn without the day? | 80 |
| |
| You speak well of what you know not, | |
| Muttered one; and then a second: | |
| You have begged and you have beckoned, | |
| But you see us on our way. | |
| Who are you to scold us, | 85 |
| Knowing what we know? | |
| Jeremiah, long ago, | |
| Said as much as you have told us. | |
| |
| As we are, then, you behold us: | |
| Derelicts of all conditions, | 90 |
| Poets, rogues, and sick physicians, | |
| Plodding forward from afar; | |
| Forward now into the darkness | |
| Where the men before us are; | |
| Forward, onward, out of grayness, | 95 |
| To the light that shone so far. | |
| |
IV SAID the Watcher by the Way | |
| To some aged ones who lingered, | |
| To the shrunken, the claw-fingered, | |
| So you come for me to-day. | 100 |
| Yes, to give you warning; | |
| You are old, one said; | |
| You have old hairs on your head, | |
| Fit for laurel, not for scorning. | |
| |
| From the first of early morning | 105 |
| We have toiled along to find you; | |
| We, as others, have maligned you, | |
| But we need your scorn to-day. | |
| By the light that we saw shining, | |
| Let us not be lured alway; | 110 |
| Let us hear no River calling | |
| When to-morrow is to-day. | |
| |
| But your lanterns are unlighted | |
| And the Town is far before you: | |
| Let us hasten, I implore you, | 115 |
| Said the Watcher by the Way. | |
| Long have I waited, | |
| Longer have I known | |
| That the Town would have its own, | |
| And the call be for the fated. | 120 |
| |
| In the name of all created, | |
| Let us hear no more, my brothers; | |
| Are we older than all others? | |
| Are the planets in our way? | |
| Hark, said one; I hear the River, | 125 |
| Calling always, night and day. | |
| Forward, then! The lights are shining, | |
| Said the Watcher by the Way. | |