The Bridge
I HAVE come a long way to-day:On a strange bridge alone,Remembering friends, old friends,I rest, without smile or moan,As they remember me without smile or moan.
All are behind, the kindAnd the unkind too, no moreTo-night than a dream. The streamRuns softly yet drowns the Past,The dark-lit stream has drowned the Future and thePast.
No traveller has rest more blestThan this moment brief betweenTwo lives, when the Night's first lightsAnd shades hide what has never been,Things goodlier, lovelier, dearer, than will be or havebeen.
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