The Bridge Builderby 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 sideAnd 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 followed after me to-dayA youth whose feet must pass this way.This chasm that has been as naught to meTo 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!”