THE PATH.
"Are they not all ministering spirits?"TO H. B. S.
HERE is a path, whose radiant trail Unwinds from worlds supreme,And up and down the noiseless feet Pass as in Jacob's dream.To some a golden street it seems, To some a silver thread;Alas! to most, a long dark bridge Swung o'er a sea of dead.
To me how dear that shining path, Adown whose glittering way,I see the loved, the shadowy forms Of those who've passed away.
