The Pilgrims

An uphill path, sun-gleams between the showers,
Where every beam that broke the leaden sky
Lit other hills with fairer ways than ours;
Some clustered graves where half our memories lie;
And one grim Shadow creeping ever nigh:
And this was Life.

Wherein we did another's burden seek,
The tired feet we helped upon the road,
The hand we gave the weary and the weak,
The miles we lightened one another's load,
When, faint to falling, onward yet we strode:
This too was Life.

Till, at the upland, as we turned to go
Amid fair meadows, dusky in the night,
The mists fell back upon the road below;
Broke on our tired eyes the western light;
The very graves were for a moment bright:
And this was Death.

by John McCrae

Comments (10)

Loved the second stanza the most. The concluding four lines also left a deep impression on my mind: 'The mists fell back upon the road below; Broke on our tired eyes the western light; The very graves were for a moment bright: And this was Death.' A masterpiece, no doubt!
An elegantly written poem about our pilgrimage in life and how we act upon that journey to the grave. I am reading more by him!
The mists fell back upon the road below; Broke on our tired eyes the western light; graves, this was death......... very nice poem. tony
Life and death! ! This journey. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
The path leads us to the grave. There is no escape. A very nice poem with a deep meaning related to life and death. Thanks a lot for sharing such a beautiful poem.
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