Gloria Ferris

The Bridge Builder

By Willaim 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 fears 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 in building here;

Your journey will end with the ending day;

You never again must pass this way;

You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide-

Why build you a bridge at the eventide?”

The builder lifted his old gray head:

“Good friend, in the path I have come,”he said,

“There followth 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 the bridge for him.”