The world's gone forward to its latest fair <br />And dropt an old man done with by the way, <br />To sit alone among the bats and stare <br />At miles and miles and miles of moorland bare <br />Lit only with last shreds of dying day. <br />Not all the world, not all the world's gone by: <br />Old man, you're like to meet one traveller still, <br />A journeyman well kenned for courtesy <br />To all that walk at odds with life and limb; <br />If this be he now riding up the hill <br />Maybe he'll stop and take you up with him . . . <br />'But thou art Death?' 'Of Heavenly Seraphim <br />None else to seek thee out and bid thee come.' <br />'I only care that thou art come from Him, <br />Unbody me - I'm tired - and get me home.'<br /><br />Ralph Hodgson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-moor/
