An old man, going a lone highway,
  Came, at the evening, cold and gray,
  To a chasm, vast, and deep, and wide,
  Through which was flowing a sullen tide.

  The old man crossed in the twilight dim;
  The sullen stream had no fear for him;
  But he turned, when safe on the other side,
  And built a bridge to span the tide.

  "Old man," said a fellow pilgrim, near,
  "You are wasting strength with building here;
  Your journey will end with the ending day;
  You never again will pass this way;
  You’ve crossed the chasm, deep and wide-
  Why build you this bridge at the evening tide?"

  The builder lifted his old gray head:
  "Good friend, in the path I have come," he said,
  "There followeth after me today,
  A youth, whose feet must pass this way.

  This chasm, that has been naught to me,
  To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
  He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
  Good friend, I am building this bridge for him."