| |
| O DID you see a troop go by | |
| Way-weary and oppressed, | |
| Dead kisses on the drooping lip | |
| And a dead heart in the breast? | |
| |
| Yea, I have seen them one by one | 5 |
| Way-weary and oppressed, | |
| And when I asked them, ‘Whither speed?’ | |
| They answered, ‘To the West!’ | |
| |
| And were they pale as pale could be— | |
| Death-pale with haunted eyes, | 10 |
| And did you see the hot white dust | |
| Range round their feet and rise? | |
| |
| Oh, they were pale as pale could be, | |
| And pale as an embered leaf; | |
| The hot white dust had risen, but | 15 |
| They laid it with their grief. | |
| |
| Did no one say the way is long, | |
| And crave a little rest? | |
| Oh no, they said, ‘The night is nigh, | |
| Our camp is in the West!’ | 20 |
| |
| And did pain pierce their feet, as though | |
| The way with thorns were set, | |
| And were they visited by strange | |
| Dark angels of regret? | |
| |
| Oh yea, and some were mute as death, | 25 |
| Though shot by many a dart, | |
| With them the salt of inward tears | |
| Went stinging through the heart. | |
| |
| And how are these wayfarers called, | |
| And whither do they wend? | 30 |
| The Weary-Hearted—and their road | |
| At sunset hath and end. | |
| |
| Shed tears for them…Nay, nay, no tears! | |
| They yearn for endless rest; | |
| Perhaps large stars will burn above | 35 |
| Their camp within the West. | |
| |
