The burning flame along the road, the faces of weary men, and I must travel on. My yellow lantern’s glow shows hardly the next step, but the next step is there. I stop, to gaze upward, to spy out a twinkling star I long ago, in a childish hour, claimed for myself. My star, dim through the clouds, was there. On, I marched. The night be cool and damp, the sounds of unseen things be heard, and I—I the traveler—still trudge on.
It is a journey one must take at night, under his star, guided by his lamp.
Tale Told 