They had come at the Spirit’s bidding--
Who bore the right to seek--
And the hungry he brake and gave them bread,
And strength he gave to the weak.
Honor and Gold and Triumph--
Love and Land and Fame--
As they deserved to each he served--
And they left and blessed his name.
And only one was waiting
Before the Giver’s knee,
And He said, “Oh spawn of a troubled Earth--
What may I do for thee?”
And the suppliant cried, “Good Master
I asked nor fame nor gold--
I only seek the bygone peak
Where I saw the lands unfold.
“I only seek the bygone peak
Where every pathway sung,
And every sea had a ship for me,
And all the World was young.
“Oh let me know the place once more,
The parting of the lane--
Oh give me back the Four-Roads Post,
That I may choose again.”
* * * * *
The Spirit gazed across the vale
And his eyes had a tender glow,
And his voice ran mild as ye speak to a child,
Wondrous soft and low:
“Little Waif of a Later Day,
Where the unthought hours flee,
The only treasure I have not.
Is the boon that ye ask of me.
“I can give you balms and riches--
I can ease you of your pain--
But I cannot give the Four-Roads Post--
That ye may choose again.”