wk 2 imitation 1 liz snader

The Young Sir By Elizabeth Snader

 A young sir running along the bank,

Kept going, as the morning sun rose further,

To a shallow and narrow puddle out there

That, now, was flowing into a magnificent stream.

The young sir crossed in the daylight bright,

Alas, the magnificent stream had no interest in him;

Moreover, he had no regard for the stream.

So he built a bridge that went from shore to shore.

“Young Sir,” said a townsperson near his place,

“You are utilizing your strength by building;

However, your journey will not end with this day today,

But you will never again see this place;

So what makes you want to build this bridge here,

Out in the bright day time sun, good sir?”

The young sir lifted his bring face to say,

“Hello, friend. The path I have been coming

Yields an old man a few miles behind me

And he must pass this way in a short while

This action has not been done in vain, sir,

But more so that this old man shall pass here soon.

He must cross in the daytime over the bridge.

Good friend, I am doing this for that man.”

The townsperson then looked at the young sir;

He told him, “What you are doing, it is great.

You are helping your elder, a stranger.

You are giving your time and energy

To help this old man and expect nothing.”

The young sir went about his work on the bridge.

He finished his task, then went on his way.

Now the bridge is done and everyone can go on their way.

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The Bridge Builder BY WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE

      An old man going a lone highway,

      Came, at the evening cold and gray,

      To a chasm vast and deep and wide.

  Through which was flowing a sullen tide

 The old man crossed in the twilight dim,

 The sullen stream had no fear for him;

 But he turned when safe on the other side

 And built a bridge to span the tide.

 “Old man,” said a fellow pilgrim near,

 “You are wasting your strength with building here; 

 Your journey will end with the ending day,

 You never again will pass this way;

 You’ve crossed the chasm, deep and wide,

 Why build this bridge at evening tide?”

 The builder lifted his old gray head;

 “Good friend, in the path I have come,” he said,

 “There followed after me to-day

 A youth whose feet must pass this way.

 This chasm that has been as naught to me

 To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be;

 He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;

 Good friend, I am building this bridge for him!”

 Source: Father: An Anthology of Verse (EP Dutton & Company, 1931)