I met a traveller on the road.....................Chin in hand, a heavy load..........He sat before me on a grave....A man in though of the brave.......................... And slowly passing, by his side, I felt him crying for those who died...................And looking down I saw a name, Him, my father was his name...............Stepping on a crooked stye, I overlooked the bluest sky...............Old men travel, down the roads.........Each burden him, to each his load!