The Gold Seekers

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Title:     The Gold Seekers
Author: Walter R. Cassels [More Titles by Cassels]

Ever onward sweep the Nations, marching with a mighty train,
Prince and peasant, youth and maiden, toiling, struggling o'er Life's plain;

Turning from the land that bore them, from the loving ties of old,
Still to wander, weary pilgrims, o'er the wide world after gold.

Little reck they of the dangers, little reck they of the woes,
Urged along by strong endeavour, heedless both of friends and foes;

Gazing on the shadow moving at their sides till sun hath set,
Ever whisp'ring to their spirit, "Courage! we will grasp it yet!"

Over plain and over mountain, rocks their zeal cannot resist,
Up the rugged heights they clamber till they perish in the mist;

Down the precipital hollows blindly falling as they speed,
Calling still with dying accents on their fellows to take heed;

Over stream, and trackless ocean, with the storm-cloud hatching nigh,
Ever waiting there to thunder at the bidding of the sky;

Tossing on the angry billow, heart and soul beset with fear,
Yet with longing all unshaken, onward through the blast they steer;

Over marsh, and sandy desert, sinking 'neath the scorching sun,
Hopeless, weary, madly thirsting, slowly dying one by one;

Leaving many a bone to whiten by the wayside, and to tell
By mortality's drear tide-marks, how its surges rose and fell;

Through the spring, and through the summer, when the flowers are on the lea;
Through the Autumn when the blossoms fade and wither drearily;

Through the chill and ghostly Winter when the year is in its shroud,
And corruption preys on Nature, stooping fiercely from its cloud;

Through the light and through the darkness, through the rain and through the snow,
Striving onward without resting seeking it above, below,

In the earth, and in the water, in the rock, and in the clay,
Gathering up the sandy beaches, searching, sifting them away;

Never resting, but with spirits eager, breathless to attain,
Evermore they hurry forward to their purpose o'er life's plain,

With their garments waxen olden, and their sandals wearing out,
And the sinews growing weaker that once bore them up so stout,

With the vision ever dimmer to discern the cherish'd prize,
Till at length upon the highway, at each step some pilgrim dies,

His glazed eyes still feebly turning e'en in death unto the goal
That yet glimmers far beyond him, the life haven of his soul.

But a stalwart phalanx presseth onward still with hearts serene,
Strong in faith and stedfast courage, meeting toil with dauntless mien;

Working out their primal mission through the calm and through the blast,
Gath'ring fitness for the Future from the Present, and the Past.

Thus enduring, thus pursuing upheld by a mighty hand
Through all dangers of the travel, come they to the Golden Land,

Find the treasures they are seeking richly pour'd into their breast;
Toil and danger ever finish'd, now they sweetly take their rest,

With the light of glory shining from the Godhead on their souls,
Whilst above them the broad banner of Eternity unrolls.

[The end]
Walter R. Cassels's poem: Gold Seekers

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