Sandy Star Iv





_The Way_



He could not tell the way he came,

Because his chart was lost:

Yet all his way was paved with flame

From the bourne he crossed.



He did not know the way to go,

Because he had no map:

He followed where the winds blow,--

And the April sap.



He never knew upon his brow

The secret that he bore,--

And laughs away the mystery now

The dark's at his door.





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