Sandy Star: The Way
He could not tell the way he came, Because his chart was lost: Yet all his way was paved with flame From the bourne he crossed.
He did not know the way to go, Because he had no map: He followed where the winds blow,-- And the April sap.
He never knew upon his brow The secret that he bore,-- And laughs away the mystery now The dark's at his door.
William Stanley Braithwaite