Poem October 23, 1965 Issue

TURN HOMEWARD, PILGRIM!

Elizabeth Rogers

Have you sought passage through some weary, land
of human hopes, entanglements and dreams,
and found, for fast, no crumb of bread at hand,

for thirst, no springs nor any cooling streams;
for beauty's sake, no rainbow-tinted flower,
for home, no lighted window's welcoming gleams,

and heard the tempter say: "This is my hour.
Crushed to the earth by matter's stern decree,
you must bow down to error's claim of power"?

And did the Comforter then help you see
that man dwells ever in eternal Mind,
living in peace and love and harmony?

If so, in dawns of joyfulness you'll find
you've left your nights of pilgrimage behind.

Elizabeth Rogers

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