Helen Gray Cone
Comrades - Poem by Helen Gray Cone
'Oh, whither, whither, rider toward the west?'
'And whither, whither, rider toward the east?'
'I rode we ride upon the same high quest,
Whereon who enters may not be released;
'To seek the Cup whose form none ever saw,-
A nobler form than e'er was shapen yet,
Though million million cups without a flaw,
Afire with gems, on princes' boards are set;
'To seek the Wine whereof none ever had
One draught, though many a generous wine flows free,-
The spiritual blood that shall make glad
The hearts of mighty men that are to be.'
'But shall one find it, brother? Where I ride,
Men mock and stare, who never had the dream,
Yet hope within my breast has never died.'
'Nor ever died in mine that trembling gleam.'
'Eastward, I deem: the sun and all good things
Are born to bless us of the Orient old.'
'Westward, I deem: an untried ocean sings
Against that coast, 'New shores await the bold.''
'God speed or thee or me, so coming men
But have the Cup!' 'God speed!'-Not once before
Their eyes had met, nor ever met again,
Yet were they loving comrades evermore.
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