< Poems (Coates 1916) < Volume II
For other versions of this work, see Pilgrimage (Coates).
PILGRIMAGE
WANDERER from a fading strand
Unto shadowy shores unknown,
Thou whose sails are onward fanned
By flattering breezes,—hast thou planned
All thy course alone?
Canst thou tell, now clouds begin
To gather in thy path of day,
To what harbor thou shalt win,
As the long night closes in
On a wider way?
Pilgrim, no: I cannot tell.
Strange my course, and stormy woes
And darkness may obscure its close;
Yet I feel that all is well,
For my Pilot knows!
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is licensed under Creative Commons - Attribution - Sharealike. Additional terms may apply for the media files.