Traveller’s Joy

What went you, Pilgrim, for to see? A sign or wonder-thing maybe? Some marvel or a holy sight As clerks in chronicles do write? For you have gone and come again, Now tell us plain? I saw the sky from rim to rim Full-filled with light up to the brim, As though it were a mighty cup To God’s lip holden up. I saw a river and a down, A harbor and a little town, A marshland blue with irises⁠— I saw all these. Saw, too, a sedgy pond where lay Lilies like anchored stars that Day Had ravished from the summer night And kept them there alight. I saw a hill-side gold with furze, And wildrose banks and junipers Distilling fragrance pungent-sweet; I saw a path that called my feet To go with it as any friend, To heart’s desire at the end. Sooth, all of these! but ’mid them all Did nothing wonderful befall? No miracle? Yea, but I have no word to tell Of that great thing that happened me⁠— I saw the sea! O wide, and blue and infinite! League upon league of space and light! I think that down this sapphire floor One might walk straight to heaven’s door And lift its golden latchet-bar, Nor find it far Or very strange, as one would guess, After such earthly loveliness. Poor pilgrim, is this all your store Of tales to tell? Is there no more Than this that any man might show? Yea, all is told. How should you know That I have looked on Beauty’s face, And being far from men a space Have found at springs of Quietness The hands that heal, the hands that bless⁠— Have known the sun and wind and trod The holy earth and talked with God!