Robert Laurence Binyon

The Clue

Life from sunned peak, witched wood, and flowery dell
A hundred ways the eager spirit wooes,
To roam, to dream, to conquer, to rebel:
Yet in its ear a voice cries ever, Choose!
 
So many ways, yet only one shall find;
So many joys, yet only one shall bless;
So many creeds, yet to each pilgrim mind
One road to the divine forgetfulness.
 
Tongues talk of truth: but truth is only found
Where the heart runs to be out—poured utterly,
Like streams whose home is in their motion, bound
To follow one faith and in that be free.
 
O Love, since I have found one truth so true,
Let me lose all, to lose my loss in you.
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