AH, here it is! the sliding rail That marks the old remembered spot, -- The gap that struck our school-boy trail, -- The crooked path across the lot. It left the road by school and church, A pencilled shadow, nothing more, That parted from the silver-birch And ended at the farm-house door. No line or compass traced its plan; With frequent bends to left or right, In aimless, wayward curves it ran, But always kept the door in sight. The gabled porch, with woodbine green, -- The broken millstone at the sill, -- Though many a rood might stretch between, The truant child could see them still. No rocks across the pathway lie, -- No fallen trunk is o'er it thrown, -- And yet it winds, we know not why, And turns as if for tree or stone. Perhaps some lover trod the way With shaking knees and leaping heart, -- And so it often runs astray With sinuous sweep or sudden start. Or one, perchance, with clouded brain From some unholy banquet reeled, -- And since, our devious steps maintain His track across the trodden field. Nay, deem not thus, -- no earthborn will Could ever trace a faultless line; Our truest steps are human still, -- To walk unswerving were divine! Truants from love, we dream of wrath; -- Oh, rather let us trust the more! Through all the wanderings of the path We still can see our Father's door! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DIRGE (1) by RALPH WALDO EMERSON ON STURMINSTER FOOT-BRIDGE by THOMAS HARDY THE FIGHT OF THE ARMSTRONG PRIVATEER by JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE VAN ELSEN by FREDERICK GEORGE SCOTT THE THIRD OF FEBRUARY, 1852 by ALFRED TENNYSON DRINKING SONG (1) by ALCAEUS OF MYTILENE EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 11. LOVE WILL OUT by PHILIP AYRES PRAYER by EVGENY ABRAMOVICH BARATYNSKY VERSES WRITTEN IN THE LEAVES OF AN IVORY POCKET-BOOK by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |