The Lost Trail
GREEN woodland pity heals the ancient scar;
Spring after spring, through still unresting years,
In little saplings and the tufted pine,
The old trail disappears.
Spring after spring, through still unresting years,
In little saplings and the tufted pine,
The old trail disappears.
Forbidden vine and fern-brake come once more;
Brown leaves have hid the secret deep and well;
Only the scattered blaze-marks, blurred and dim,
A fading message tell.
Brown leaves have hid the secret deep and well;
Only the scattered blaze-marks, blurred and dim,
A fading message tell.
One coming here might seek for it in vain;
There is no sign above the guarded gate
To point the path, to where the still wood keeps
Its heart inviolate.
There is no sign above the guarded gate
To point the path, to where the still wood keeps
Its heart inviolate.
The old path fades, forgotten; only guessed,
And scarcely found and once more lost again. No record serves to show the long-healed wound
Of havoc and of pain.
And scarcely found and once more lost again. No record serves to show the long-healed wound
Of havoc and of pain.
God send all trails forgetfulness as this!
Such healing pity of the kindly years,
That no swift-footed memory may find
Lost places of old tears!
Such healing pity of the kindly years,
That no swift-footed memory may find
Lost places of old tears!