The Old Road to Paradise/The Old Road to Paradise

by Margaret Widdemer

THE OLD ROAD TO PARADISE

THE OLD ROAD TO PARADISE

Ours is a dark Easter-tide,
 And a scarlet Spring,
But high up at Heaven-Gate
 All the saints sing,
Glad for the great companies
 Returning to their King.

Oh, in youth the dawn's a rose,
 Dusk's an amethyst,
All the roads from dusk to dawn
 Gay they wind and twist;
The old road to Paradise
 Easy it is missed!

But out on the wet battlefields,
 Few the roadways wind,
One to grief, one to death
 No road that's kind—
The old road to Paradise
 Plain it is to find!

(Martin in his Colonel's cloak,
 Joan in her mail,
David with his crown and sword—
 None there be that fail—
Down the road to Paradise
 Stand to greet and hail!)

Where the dark's a terror-thing,
 Morn a hope doubt-tossed.
Where the lads lie thinking long
 Out in rain and frost,
There they find their God again,
 Long ago they lost:

Where the night comes cruelly,
 Where the hurt men moan,
Where the crushed forgotten ones
 Whisper prayers alone,
Christ along the battlefields
 Comes to lead His own:

Souls that would have withered soon
 In the hot world's glare,
Blown and gone like shriveled things,
 Dusty on the air,
Rank on rank they follow Him,
 Young and strong and fair!

Ours is a sad Easter-tide,
 And a woeful day,
But high up at Heaven-Gate
 The saints are all gay,
For the old road to Paradise,
 That's a crowded way!