FAR, far I've strayed me in the long endeavor To find the way of Truth; All unfamiliar grow the paths, and ever I lose the step of youth, Until it seems I am foredoomed to wander In fruitless, weary quest, While strength and time and hope I do but squander, Seeking the final rest. Sometimes poor mortals, forest-bound, have plodded Along an unblazed trail, And felt strange fears and seen weird shapes embodied, That made their courage fail; Then suddenly have found they circled blindly, And were not far astray, Led by some hand invisible but kindly Into a wonted way. So, haply, I, sore spent with ceaseless trying, Too tired to longer roam, May sudden see the path before me lying, And just ahead, my home. |