214 AT LAST.
Then human atoms outward spilled
On branching walks and vagrant ways
Some by Love s waiting magnets drawn Out from the shifting, tangled maze ;
Some, all unclaimed by love or law, Went drifting slowly here and there,
To find within some hostelrie
The semblance of Love s home and care.
There, till the last faint echo fell, An old man waited, worn and gray,
Watching the faces as they passed, In hungry, searching, wistful way.
The trackmen tell of vigil kept
Through counted days of many years
Waiting at morning, noon and night, Untouched by unbelieving sneers
Waiting, with faith most woman-like, The boy who left him long ago
Waiting the trains as one by one
From West to East each day they go.
The wand rer sought the Golden Gate Beyond it where he went, who knows ;
They whisper softly, He has gone,
Out through the gate that don t unclose."
And yet the old man keeps his faith : " My boy is living, well I know ;