Two Pursuits

A voice said: “Follow, follow:” and I rose
And followed far into the dreamy night,
Turning my back upon the pleasant light.
It led me where the bluest water flows,
And would not let me drink; where the corn grows
I dared not pause, but went uncheered by sight
Or touch; until at length in evil plight
It left me, wearied out with many woes.
Some time I sat as one bereft of sense:
But soon another voice from very far
Called: “Follow, follow:” and I rose again.
Now on my night has dawned a blessèd star;
Kind, steady hands my sinking steps sustain,
And will not leave me till I shall go hence.
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