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THE PATH.
"Are they not all ministering spirits?"TO H. B. S.
HERE is a path, whose radiant trailUnwinds from worlds supreme,
And up and down the noiseless feet
Pass as in Jacob's dream.
To some a golden street it seems,
To some a silver thread;
Alas! to most, a long dark bridge
Swung o'er a sea of dead.
To some a silver thread;
Alas! to most, a long dark bridge
Swung o'er a sea of dead.
To me how dear that shining path,
Adown whose glittering way,
I see the loved, the shadowy forms
Of those who've passed away.
Adown whose glittering way,
I see the loved, the shadowy forms
Of those who've passed away.
