Lean on my shoulder, ragged, borne upon a crutch . . . yet lean.
I do not ask your travelings; long ago I learned all journeyings are secret since none may know the end till he arrives.
Rest. For every ditch has mirrors; the spheres will shine and swing in them with tantalizing nearness to your cheek. So far from Heaven it is to lie upon the reflection of a star . . .
A speaker meets a ragged traveler leaning on a crutch and offers a simple kindness: lean on me, rest. What stands out is the lack of questions. The speaker doesn't ask where the stranger has come from or where he is going, because, as the poem puts it, nobody knows where a journey ends until he gets there. Every life is a private road, so the speaker simply offers comfort without prying.
The last lines turn gentle and a little dreamy. Even a muddy ditch holds mirrors, and stars shine in its water, close enough to touch your cheek. The final line plays with distance: Heaven seems impossibly far, yet lying down beside a star's reflection brings it almost within reach. The mood is tender and quiet, with a touch of melancholy. The poem suggests that rest, and small unexpected beauty, can be found even at the lowest point of a hard road.