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John McCrae - The Pilgrims
Work rating: Medium

An uphill path, sun-gleams between the showers,
 Where every beam that broke the leaden sky
Lit other hills with fairer ways than ours;
 Some clustered graves where half our memories lie;
And one grim Shadow creeping ever nigh:
            And this was Life.

Wherein we did another`s burden seek,
 The tired feet we helped upon the road,
The hand we gave the weary and the weak,
 The miles we lightened one another`s load,
When, faint to falling, onward yet we strode:
            This too was Life.

Till, at the upland, as we turned to go
 Amid fair meadows, dusky in the night,
The mists fell back upon the road below;
 Broke on our tired eyes the western light;
The very graves were for a moment bright:
            And this was Death.
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