Rosemary and Pansies/The Pilgrim's Halt

by Bertram Dobell

THE PILGRIMS' HALT

   Oh! a weary way we've marched,
   We are footsore, faint and parched,
And we've fallen into woeful disarray;
   Let us linger here awhile,
   Where all around doth smile,
And drink to those who've fallen by the way!

   How numerous was our clan
   When our pilgrimage began,
What a long unending column did our blithesome ranks comprise!
   But it dwindled day by day
   As the hardships of the way
Subdued our ardent spirits and no Pisgah blessed our eyes.

   Still on and on we strode,
   Though more toilsome grew the road,
And our hearts grew faint within us and our sanguine spirits fled;
   For we nowhere found a sign
   That the land for which we pine
Shall at last make glad our vision and echo to our tread.

   'Tis not hard to bear the brunt
   Of the foe's assault in front,
'Tis harder much our doubtings and our fears to subjugate;
   But we never will despair,
   We will dare and ever dare,
Till our constancy and courage win at last the smile of fate!

   Then a bumper let us drain
   To our many comrades slain;
'Tis no shame if to our eyes the tear-drops start:
   We'll keep silence for a space,
   Tracing o'er each vanished face,
Then once more, refreshed and strengthened, on our pilgrimage depart.

  1885?