by 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 they were 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.