Classic Poem

There is a road that ventures down
Through many an olive-shaded town,
By many a nook where I have seen
The Jordan willows turning green,
By many a well where women wait,
By many a barred, unopened gate,
All the way to a hill-side house
And a night beneath the olive-boughs.

And I have strangely come upon
A walker in the windy dawn
Who has not found, where'er he went,
The hand or face that brings content
Within a shy and shady space,
But turned away — I knew his face
For one I summoned long ago;
I wonder I remember so!

I have called him. He will come
With youth within him like a drum,
And strength within him, warm, unspent,
To fold peace in his arms, content,
And faith within him like a star,
And feet to wander with me far —
I would not show to every one
That long gray pathway in the sun.

I would not show to every one
The road that I have come upon,
The road that I at last must ride
With a ragged ass-colt by my side;
For he shall know, and he shall see
The hill-side house of Bethany,
And I will teach him many things
Of purple old rememberings:

Death and love beside me sit,
But few there are who know of it.