Highway, where the Sun is wide;
Byway, where the lost ones hide,
Byway, where the Soul must hark,
Byway, dreadful with the Dark:
Can you nothing do with Man?
Doctor, Lawyer, Merchant, Chief,
Learns he nothing, even of grief?
Must it still be all his wonder
Some men soar, while some go under?
He has heard, and he has seen:
Make him know the thing you mean.
He has prayed since time began,--
He's so curious of the Plan!
He will pray you till he die,
For the Whence and for the Why;
Mad for wisdom--when 'tis cheaper!
'_Why should my way lead me deeper?
Am I, then, my Brother's keeper?_'

Show him, Byway, if you can;
Lest he end as he began,
Rich and poor,--this beggar, Man.



_But we did walk in Eden,
Eden, the garden of God;--
There, where no beckoning wonder
Of all the paths we trod,