O'STRONG and pure of soul! — O earnest-hearted! <br />Like stranger-pilgrims at some way-side shrine <br />Have we two met, and mingled faith, and parted, — <br />Thy pathway leading far away from mine. <br /> <br />The soul of ancient song is round thee swelling, <br />To triumph-marches leading on the hours; <br />Thy life hath templed shades, where gods are dwelling, <br />Where founts Castalian play among the flowers. <br /> <br />But faintly may the voices of the ages <br />Come to my yearning but imperfect sense, — <br />The strength of heroes and the lore of sages, <br />The fire of song, the storm of eloquence. <br /> <br />Thy thoughts, their grand vibrations far out-flinging, <br />Like church-tower bells ring out the morning chime, <br />While flow my numbers like the gleeful singing <br />Of peasant maidens at the vintage-time. <br /> <br />Grandeur and power are shrined within thy spirit; <br />It moves in deeps and joys in storm and night, — <br />While mine, of simpler mould, may but inherit <br />The love of all things beautiful and bright. <br /> <br />Truth's earnest seeker thou, — I fancy's rover: <br />Thy life is like a river deep and wide; <br />I but the light-winged wild-bird passing over, <br />One moment mirrored in the rushing tide. <br /> <br />Thus are we parted, — thou still onward hasting, <br />Pouring the great flood of that life along; <br />While I on sunny slopes am careless wasting <br />The little summer of my time of song.<br /><br />Grace Greenwood<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-one-afar/
