Cross Roads

ALL ALONG THE BROAD HIGHWAY

     All along the broad highway the little dreams were
           growing,
        White as hope, and red as life, and bluer than the
           sea—
     All along the broad highway I felt their petals
           blowing,
        Like a storm of fragrant snow across the lips of
           me!
     So I danced with joyous heart, and bent above them
           singing.
        So I skipped along the road and smiled into the
           skies;
     ALL ALONG THE BROAD HIGHWAY THE LITTLE DREAMS WERE
           SPRINGING,
        FRAGRANT AS THE DEW OF STARS AND GLAD AS BUTTERFLIES!

     All along the broad highway I danced and sang unheeding,
        Till One came with haughty step and traveled by
           my side;
     Traveled first beside my path then, suddenly, was
           leading—
        One who drew me after him and murmured, "I AM
           PRIDE!"
     All along the broad highway I hurried, ever faster,
        Faster through the purple dust that blinded like
           a mist,
     Blinded me until I felt that only Pride was master,
        (And I saw the little dreams through clouds of
           amethyst!)

     All along the broad highway I toiled, no longer
           glancing
        Anywhere but straight ahead... I had no
           heart to sing—
     All along the broad highway, my feet no longer
           dancing;
        Followed I the steps of Pride, and felt the thick
           dust sting
     In the tired eyes of me... the eyes too sad for
           weeping!
        Still I struggled—struggled on until quite
           suddenly—
     All the strength that kept me up seemed drowsy,
           almost sleeping—
        And I paused with drooping head and lo, Pride
           went from me!

     All along the broad highway the silent dusk was
           stealing,
        Quite alone I stood and stared about me in the
           gloom;
     And the voice of me was still, and my heart was
           kneeling
        Like a weary pilgrim soul in an attic room.
     And I stretched my empty hands to where the ghostly
           lighting,
        Showed a crumpled mist of blue, a heap of white
           and red—
     There along the broad highway like armies after
           fighting,
        All the gallant little dreams were lying gaunt and
           dead!