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Journey

Near eventide we passed the cliffs,
That purpling loomed before the night,
And saw the inky stream that flows,
In sluggish darkness winding smooth,
Into the misty plain.

When Moon's bright gleam our pathway traced,
Upon the windswept, rocky, crest,
We paused in silver weariness,
And drinking deep of Nocturne's cup,
Rested in midnight peace.

All night we journeyed on this road,]
Until our questing feet were stilled,
By thunder from a gloomy gulf,
Where angry torrent's furious whirl,
Parted the trembling cliffs.

So when the dawn in greyness came,
And filled the gulf with sombre light,
Across the dripping rocks we passed,
Where some were hurled by mossy guile,
Down to the stream below.

Then day by day we walked the plain,
And heard a moaning in the mist,
Of cities where men lived and loved,
And died within their walls of toil,
Shrouded in murky light.

But soon we came to sunset's rim,
Where grey against the golden sky,
The Boatman of eternal Styx,
In silent greeting bade us pass,
Over the timeless stream.

—E.F.H.