At first a mere¹ thread of a footpath² half blotted³
out by the grasses
Sweeping triumphant⁴ across it, it wound between hedges of roses
Whose blossoms were poised⁵ above leaves as pond lilies float on
the water,
While hidden by bloom in a hawthorn⁶ a bird filled the morning with
singing.
It widened a highway, majestic⁷, stretching ever
to distant horizons,
Where shadows of tree-branches wavered, vague outlines invaded by
sunshine;
No sound but the wind as it whispered the secrets of earth to the
flowers,
And the hum of the yellow bees, honey-laden and dusty with pollen⁸.
And Summer said, "Come, follow onward⁹, with no thought save the
longing¹⁰
to wander,
The wind, and the bees, and the flowers, all singing the great song
of Nature,
Are minstrels of change and of promise, they herald¹¹ the joy of the
Future."
Later the solitude¹² vanished, confused and distracted
the road
Where many were seeking and jostling.  Left behind were
the trees
and the flowers,
The half-realized beauty of quiet, the sacred unconscious communing.
And now he is come to a river, a line of gray, sullen¹³ water,
Not blue and splashing, but dark, rolling somberly on to the ocean.
But on the far side is a city whose windows flame gold in the sunset.
It lies fair and shining before him, a gem¹⁴ set betwixt sky and water,
And spanning the river a bridge, frail¹⁵ promise to longing desire,
Flung by man in his infinite courage, across the stern force of
the water;
And he looks at the river and fears, the bridge is so slight,
yet he ventures
His life to its fragile keeping, if it fails the waves will engulf¹⁶
him.
O Arches! be strong to uphold him, and bear him across to the city,
The beautiful city whose spires¹⁷ still glow with the fires of sunset!

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