Beside the Railway Track.
On its straight iron pathway the long train was rushing,
With its noise, and its smoke, and its great human load;
And I saw a wild rose that in beauty was blushing,
Fresh and sweet, by the side of the hot, dusty road.
Untrained were its branches, untended it flourished,
No eye watched its opening or mourned its decay;
But its leaves by the soft dews of heaven were nourished,
And it opened its buds in the warm light of day.
I asked why it grew there where none prized its beauty,
For of thousands who passed none had leisure to stay.
And the answer came sweetly, “I do but my duty;
I was told to grow here by the side of the way.”
There are those on life’s pathway whose spirits are willing
To dwell where the busy crowd passes them by;
But the dew from above on their leaves is distilling,
And they bloom ’neath the smile of the All-seeing Eye.
They are loved by the few—like the rose, they remind us,
When tempted from duty’s safe pathway to stray;
We, too, have a place and a mission assign’d us,
Though it be but to grow by the side of the way.