THE DREAMER
(Author - William Johnson)
(Author - William Johnson)
Two men sat in the evening, by the fireside's cheery glow;
Watching the ghost of shadows, that flickered too and fro.
Each pulled on his pipe in silence, their minds were far away;
On a mountain they had climbed together, to watch the close of the day.
Alike were they as two brothers, in all things excepting the mind;
For one recalled the glorious sunset, the other - only the climb.
And when they had at last reached the summit, the heart of the one knew no thrill;
For he saw mountains, just that, nothing more, the other, a creative will.
When up from the far horizon, billowing clouds had come;
To the one they cast welcome shadows, to the other they but hid the sun.
One saw in the storm's wild fury, part of an infinite plan;For he had the soul of a dreamer, while the other was only a man.
To him life is but a treadmill, with no beauty to lighten the pain;
He sees not the far horizon, for he n'eer looks up from the plain.
To the other life is like a highway, and his joy in it knows no end;
Each turn but hides greater beauty, each person he meets is a friend.
Watching the ghost of shadows, that flickered too and fro.
Each pulled on his pipe in silence, their minds were far away;
On a mountain they had climbed together, to watch the close of the day.
Alike were they as two brothers, in all things excepting the mind;
For one recalled the glorious sunset, the other - only the climb.
And when they had at last reached the summit, the heart of the one knew no thrill;
For he saw mountains, just that, nothing more, the other, a creative will.
When up from the far horizon, billowing clouds had come;
To the one they cast welcome shadows, to the other they but hid the sun.
One saw in the storm's wild fury, part of an infinite plan;For he had the soul of a dreamer, while the other was only a man.
To him life is but a treadmill, with no beauty to lighten the pain;
He sees not the far horizon, for he n'eer looks up from the plain.
To the other life is like a highway, and his joy in it knows no end;
Each turn but hides greater beauty, each person he meets is a friend.
Oh God let me be the dreamer, with eyes to see deep in the day;
Who can look at a man and see more of the soul, and less of the common clay.
That I might know joy in sorrow, and in all things see the work of thy hand;
Yes God let me be the dreamer, and let someone else be the man.
