A Poem

An old man, traveling a lone highway,

Came at the evening cold and gray,

to a chasm deep and wide,

Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

The old man crossed in the twilight dim,

For the sullen stream held no fears for him.

But he turned when he reached the other side,

And builded a bridge to span the tide.

"Old man," cried a fellow pilgrim near,

"You are wasting your strength with building here;

Your journey will end with the ending day,

And you never again will pass this way.

"You have crossed the chasm deep and wide.

Why build you a bridge at even tide?"

And the builder raised his old gray head;

"Good friend, on  the path I have come," he said,

"There followeth after me today

A youth whose feet will pass this way.

"This stream, which has been as naught to me,

To that fair-haired boy may a pitfall be;

He, too, must cross in the twilight dim--

Good friend, I am building this bridge for him."

Author Unknown