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Pilgrims
“Have you not seen, In ancient times, Pilgrims pass by Toward other climes, With shining faces, Youthful and strong, Mounting this hill With speech and with song?”
“Ah, my good sir, I know not those ways; Little my knowledge, Tho’ many my days. When I have slumbered, I have heard sounds As of travelers passing These my grounds.
“’T was a sweet music Wafted them by, I could not tell If afar off or nigh. Unless I dreamed it, This was of yore: I never told it To mortal before, Never remembered But in my dreams What to me waking A miracle seems.” ❧ ☞ Next Poem ☞ ☙
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