Poems (Commelin)/Isolation
ISOLATION.
A young soul sought to wander from the pathWhere trod her mates. "Oh, come," she said to these,"Into some new, broad way, where open outMore light and freedom, where the secrets strangeOf life and death, and mystery of birthMay be revealed. The milestones, worn and oldAnd time-stained, on the narrow, beaten road,I read not." But they would not follow her."Stay with us," they said, "the path is narrowAnd no view on either side. The hedgesDense shut off the vista wide, but many feetHave trod the road, and found their peace at last—Thy fathers and our fathers and our friends,—And at the end is certainty and rest."She asked no more, but softly to herselfShe said, "My love will climb those heights with me,"And, ere the honeymoon had waned, she ledHis willing feet out to the open way Where winds blew fresh and free, and sunny skiesHad charmed her sight. "I breathe, at length," she said,As, hand in hand, they wandered on to seekThe upland path. And sense of freedom firstExultant filled their hearts, and new-found joyThat larger prospect grand might be revealed.But by and by, when they had wandered far,And sat upon the greensward, side by side,He said, "Here let us rest, nor farther seek,Content with love and this fair scene below,Nor follow out the dizzy path beyond:Already thorns have pierced thy tender flesh.""'Tis beautiful," she said, "but fain would IGo on with thee until my questioningsMay find reward, more light, more certaintyOf all the bright beyond." "'Tis far enough,"He said, "the path grows rough and steep, and onForever mayest thou go, nor understandMore clear than now." So down the mountain slopeThey took their way. The years sped swiftly on,And children sweet made glad their hearth-stone warm:But oft she thought upon the mountain view, And longed to see. Too thorny was the roadFor little feet. She could not take them there;But oft to friends she spoke of her desire,And one would say, "I go part way with thee";And one, "Thou goest far: it is not meetFor any": and yet another, "Seek notWhat lies beyond that dizzy height at all."But most said, "Safer is the olden road:Return, ere it is yet too late for thee."But once her longing mastered all her fears,And on she sped beyond the thorny steep,And up the heights she pressed, with bleeding feet,To see no limit to the vast beyond,Life, death, and mystery of being yetAll unrevealed! Night cometh on apace.