An old man going a lone highway
Came at the evening cold and grey,
To a chasm vast and deep and wide,
Through which was flowing a swollen tide.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim,
That swollen stream held no fears for him,
But he paused 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 in building here.
Your journey will end with the ending day.
You never again must pass this way.
You’ve crossed the chasm deep and wide,
Why build you the bridge at the even tide?”
The builder lifted his old grey 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 swollen stream which was 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 the bridge for him.”