A vine beside a window grew—
An open window; creeping through,
It found, in semi-darkened hall,
A bare expanse of barren wall.
Days passed, nor leaf nor flower was seen;
A tiny tendril softly green
Extended, lengthening day by day,
Beside the stair, a weary way.
Weeks passed, the tender, slender thread
Crept up and up; high overhead
A window on the landing shone,
A gleaming goal. Toward that alone,
Unfaltering, tireless, day and night,
A patient striving toward the light.
At last a leaf bud gains the sill;
Another follows fast, until
A leafy screen, a curtain fair,
Waves to and fro in summer air.
Well, heart of mine, how go your days?
In joy and sunshine, work and praise?
The Master said, The fields are white,
But, ah, he spoke of coming night
Beyond, above, a pathway dim,
Through narrow entrance following him—
A forty days—Gethsemane;
Yea, forty years, and Calvary!
