Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Friday, September 19, 2008

A Poem

Last night, at the Scout "New Leader Essentials" training, we learned about being effective leaders and volunteers in the Scouting community. Over the course of the evening, we built a bridge to symbolize the fact that we are leaders and how we provide a foundation for future leaders.

This poem was read at the end of the meeting and if you think about it, it can be translated into a Martial Arts point of view as well.


THE BRIDGE BUILDER

An old man, going a lone highway,
Came at the evening cold and gray,
To a chasm, vast and deep and wide,
Through which was flowing a sullen tide.
The old man crossed in the twilight dim-
That sullen stream had no fears for him;
But he turned, when he reached the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.

"Old man," said a fellow pilgrim near,
"You are wasting strength in building here.
Your journey will end with the ending day;
You never again must pass this way.
You have crossed the chasm, deep and wide,
Why build you the bridge at the eventide?"

The builder lifted his old gray head.
"Good friend, in the path I have come," he said,
"There followeth after me today
A youth whose feet must pass this way.
This chasm that has been naught to me
To that fair-haired youth may a pitfall be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building the bridge for him."

-WILL ALLEN DROMGOOLE

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Robert Frost

Since I read that article Sa Bu Nim sent me, I haven't been able to get this poem out of my head.


The Road not Taken


    Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
    And sorry I could not travel both
    And be one traveller, long I stood
    And looked down one as far as I could
    To where it bent in the undergrowth;


    Then took the other, as just as fair,
    And having perhaps the better claim,
    Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
    Though as for that the passing there
    Had worn them really about the same,


    And both that morning equally lay
    In leaves no step had trodden black.
    Oh, I kept the first for another day!
    Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
    I doubted if I should ever come back.


    I shall be telling this with a sigh
    Somewhere ages and ages hence:
    Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
    I took the one less traveled by,
    And that has made all the difference.

    Robert Frost