Page:The poetical works of Matthew Arnold, 1897.djvu/453

Rh We, we only are left!

With frowning foreheads, with lips

Sternly compressed, we strain on,

On; and at nightfall at last

Come to the end of our way,

To the lonely inn 'mid the rocks;

Where the gaunt and taciturn host

Stands on the threshold, the wind

Shaking his thin white hairs,

Holds his lantern to scan

Our storm-beat figures, and asks,—

Whom in our party we bring?

Whom we have left in the snow?

Sadly we answer, We bring

Only ourselves! we lost

Sight of the rest in the storm.

Hardly ourselves we fought through,

Stripped, without friends, as we are.

Friends, companions, and train,

The avalanche swept from our side.

But thou wouldst not alone

Be saved, my father! alone

Conquer and come to thy goal,

Leaving the rest in the wild.

We were weary, and we

Fearful, and we in our march

Fain to drop down and to die.

Still thou turnedst, and still

Beckonedst the trembler, and still

Gavest the weary thy hand.

If, in the paths of the world,

Stones might have wounded thy feet,