The Path Of Life Poem by Dora Sigerson Shorter

In the springtime once I wandered 'mid fair flowers of golden hue;
Wonder-eyed I gazed around me in those fields where all was new,
And a path stretched long before me, soft with moss and blossoms white,
While the birds, so sweetly singing, filled my soul with fresh delight.
Down the path, with song and laughter, came three maidens hand in hand,
By their side a shadow glided that I could not understand
For I scarce could see it coming, yet I knew that it was there,
Like a cloud upon the brightness of a sky that was all fair—
Maids more beauteous than the blossoms of the flowers which deck the lea,

Maids more joyous than the happy birds that flit from tree to tree.
‘Tell me who thou art,’ I pleaded, ‘thou with eyes of peace and love?’
‘I am Hope,’ she softly whispered, pointing with white hand above.
‘Who art thou whose fair cheek flushes, 'neath the kiss of health, so red,
Thou with restless limbs and slender?’—‘I am Youth,’ she gladly said.
‘Who art thou,’ I questioned further, ‘thou with glance of merriment?’
‘We are sisters three,’ she answered, ‘Hope, Youth, Joy, from Heaven sent.’
Then the dim lips of the shadow moved—I heard a faint voice call
‘On! on! Time must never linger; Death, the king, is end of all.’

So along the path we wandered—oh! the bliss of those short hours!
Youth and Hope and Joy together 'mid the everblooming flowers
That on life's smooth path were glowing soft beneath my naked feet,
Till I envied nought in Heaven, thinking here my lot complete.

As I raised the flowering branches that across my path would stray,
Lo! I found amidst the blossoms at my feet Love sleeping lay.
‘Wake!’ I cried, ‘my soul would know thee. Stranger, wake! my heart is thine.’
At my call he woke and, rising, laid his burning hand in mine.
‘Thou art Love,’ I said, ‘and fairer than all things that God hath made;
Joy itself must have an ending, Youth is only born to fade,
And alone Love is immortal, faithful Love can never die—
Death's dark gates for him are open, Death himself must let him by.’
Then my heart grew chill, for nigh me once again I heard that call
‘On! on! Time can never linger; Death, the king, is end of all.’

So along the path we wandered, pausing oft for sweet caress,
Till my heart felt overflowing with its wealth of happiness;
But lo! on the path before us briars mingled with the moss,

And the flowers died on the branches, but I did not feel their loss.
What cared I, with Love beside me, if the sun should hide its light?
He was summer, he was sunshine, by his side there was no night.
Rougher grew the path before us, and the hedges lost their bloom,
Stretching out their thorny branches like long fingers in the gloom.
Then Love lingered slow behind me, saying, ‘Dear, I cannot stay,
For my feet are weary toiling o'er this rough and thorny way,
For the flowerless branches wound me—for the sun has ceased to shine,
And I dread the growing darkness strange with shapes I can't define.’
So I watched them quick departing; Joy and Love went side by side.
‘O my Love, why hast thou left me?’ in my grief I sadly cried;
‘Love braves all and fears no evil, Love gives all unselfishly,
There's no darkness, there's no danger, there's but Love where Love can be.

Love makes smooth the roughest pathway, Love makes bloom the budless bough—
Youth and Hope thou takest with thee must I lonely wander now?
And the way so steep before me, wanting thee I could not climb;
No! I'll trace our happy footprints backwards o'er the path of Time.’
But alas! how vain my hoping—on my ears those dread words fall
‘On! on! Time knows no returning; Death is king and end of all.’

Lone I journeyed on, and Sorrow rose with pale cheeks by my side,
Weeping oft that Love had left me, sighing oft that Youth had died;
And a dread shape strode before me, with wild eyes and streaming hair,
Then my heart grew cold with anguish, for I knew this was Despair.
But some hand from out the darkness drew her back into the night,
And the sky grew fair, for Heaven shed upon my path its light.
‘Hope!’ I cried, ‘thou hast returnèd; bring'st thou back my Love to me?’

‘No!’ she said, ‘thy Love was worthless, he has gone and set thee free.
On Life's path two flowers are blooming, one grows gaudy, bright, and tall,
But the other fair and lowly—oft a heedless foot will fall
Crushing down each snowy petal that had sprung from Heaven's seed
Thou hast passed the purer blossom by to pluck the flaunting weed.
Thou hast sought for sun and sunshine, where to seek thou didst not know,
For thou'st caught the vague reflection here upon the earth below.
If the true sun thou art seeking, thou must turn thine eyes above—
Thou hast feared Death as he followed—he would give thee Life and Love.
Mourn not Love that proved so worthless, there's a purer Love on high—
Mourn not Joy, for Joy is living, yea, a Joy that cannot die.
Mourn not Youth, for Death would lead thee on where years can never be—
As a grain of sand thy life is on that shore—Eternity.

On! and weary not in going, let thy heart obey that call;
On! for Earth holds nought to mourn for—on! for Death gives life to all.’