The Fables of Florian (tr. Phelps)/The Journey


To set out ere the dawn of day,
Groping in darkness for the way,
Caring for naught, nor making quest
If going North, South, East, or West;—
From fall to fall to stumble on
Till near one-third the course be run:
Then, as the dark clouds gather round,
To enter on unstable ground,
Yet pushing onwards, though quite lost,
'Midst thick'ning doubts, and tempest tost,

With no sure aim, no end in view,
And seldom knowing what to do;—
Driven, forc'd on, and in great stress,
Seeking some spot, some safe recess,
Where to arrive all out of breath,
       And there to creep
       To the last sleep—
Such then is Birth, and Life, and Death;
This is the way we journey on:—
       God's will be done!