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 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 you this bridge at the evening tide?"The builder lifted his old gray 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 chasm, that has been 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.”