In our wand'rings here and there,
Sometimes led by hope alluring,
Sometimes halted by despair;
But the life that travels farthest
On that deeper strength depends,
For with love, there is no turning;
When love dies the journey ends.


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Back across the broken foothills,
With a courage none can feel
Till the burning pangs of sorrow
Turn the heart-strings into steel;
Back across the winter's playground,
Tracing out the paths he trod,
With each muttered execration
Ending in a prayer to God.
Blasts that howled with fiendish laughter,
By their loud derisive cry
Seemed to mock his labored progress
As they passed him swiftly by;
Icy, blizzard-driven snowflakes
Into ghost-like fancies whirled,
Painting on the barren canvas,
Gaunt Death battling for the world.


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