A Reed by the River/The Pilgrim

by Virginia Woodward Cloud

THE PILGRIM

  Love, 'tis a strange and a perilous path—
    I have trod this way before—
  The pitiless rock and the thorn it hath,
    The gloom and the closed door;
There is dawn that yearns, there is dusk that grieves—
    Ay, well does Love know all!—
The chill of doubt and the heart's bruised leaves,
    And the soul's unanswered call.

Mayhap thou shalt thirst where no fountains are—
    Love fareth on joy and pain!
And thy desert nights shall be void of a star—
    Love's vigils are not in vain;
  Ay, though more bitter each mortal breath,
    The dream it is sweet, is sweet,
  Though its day be woe and its night be death,
    Thou canst not stay Love's feet,
    Thou canst not stay Love's feet!