Poems (Hoffman)/Paths
PATHS
The mountain lifts its burly formTo Summer's sun and Winter's storm,And gully, slide and deep ravineGive proof of tempests that have been,Yet Spring still clothes her slopes with flowersAnd grasses bend to April showers;Adown the mountain's sides are wound,O'er grassy slopes and rocky ground,From the great boulders' topmost placeTo the cool lakelet at its base,Steep hillside paths that twist and turnTill lost to sight in rush or fern.The deer's impatient hoof has tornThe dewy turf at earliest morn,The sheep has trodden grass and weedsIn winding paths wher'er she feeds,The goat has worn his narrow wayTo the great boulders, grim and gray.Two mountain paths among the rest,One from the east, one from the west,Wind zigzag down the steep inclineThrough sapling growths of fir and pine,Through rocky gulch and deep ravine,O'er sunny slopes, huge rocks between,Through laughing rivulets that playIn gladness down their shallow way,Where tend'rest spring flowers bloom and fade,Through light and shadow, sun and shade;Till, nearing each the other's routeThey turn abruptly now and meetWhere a great oak spreads out his limbsAnd chants his breezy forest hymns;And now together, broader grown, Descend the mountain-side in one.Thus, though unrealized—unseen,Our life-paths meet and intervene,Cross and recross in life's swift loom,In shade and sunshine, light and gloom,And two, beginning far apart,Wind round the earth from where they startTill meeting, hence through shade and sunTwo life-paths mingle into one;Thus, through the world in devious ways,We journey with the fleeting days;Thus, down life's mountain path descend,Knowing not whence our steps shall bend:Certain of naught but that each route,Each zigzag path, shall reach the foot.