The Bridge Builder 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,
The sullen stream had no fear for him; 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 will pass this way;
You’ ve crossed the chasm, deep and wide, Why build this bridge at evening tide?”
The builder lifted his old gray head;“ Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,
“ There followeth after me to-day
A youth whose feet must pass this way. This chasm that has been as naught to me To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be;
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim; Good friend, I am building this bridge for him!”