James Mclain Poet Lyric

A Narrow Path Not Made By Men

A Narrow Path—not made by Men—
Unfolds—beneath the Trees—
No Trowel laid—no Footstep pressed—
It opens—by Degrees—

The Clover parts—as if to bow—
The Fern—extends a Palm—
And every Pebble—seems to know—
A hush—profound as Psalm—

No Compass—need direct the Soul—
That finds this Pilgrims Way—
For Nature—keeps her Sabbath here—
While Worlds—go far astray—

I wander—where no Echo treads—
Save that of Brook—and Wren—
And bless—the Road—invisible—
Unbuilt—by Mortal Men—

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