POETRY.
THE SOLITARY WAY.
THAT lonely road up which all self-reliant, Strong souls must go;
That stony path not worn by footsteps pliant, In dales below ; That rare track made by great ones, lone and beaten Through solitary hours, Climbing past fear and fate and sin, iron-eaten, To godlier powers ; This stern, dark highway, alien, trodden only By earth's rare few ; Who, holding the high, austere, aloof and lonely, The sensual slew ; Who walked through grim, dread seasons holding ever Hearts patient, dumb; Where father, mother, sister, friend or lover, Might never come.
A road of lonely morn and midnight, sloping
O'er earth's dim bars ; Where out at last the soul, life's pinnacles topping, Stands with the stars.
That pathway Dante trod, and Cromwell, doubting, Questioning, seeking, followed in prayer alone ; That mighty stairway trod Napoleon, routing Europe o'erthrown.
Nought weak, ignoble, trod its stairways splendid, Isolate, austere ; Only earth's great its solitudes have wended, Of vasty mere,
Of desolate heights to genius dedicated, Cfer earth's poor moan ;
WILFRED CAMPBELL.
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