PATH OF THE CALF

[Hemast]

PATH OF THE CALF
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One day through the primeval wood
A calf walked home as good calves should
But made a trail all but bent askew
A crooked trail as all calves do
Since then three hundred years have fled
And I infer the calf is dead
But still he left behind his trail
And thereby hangs my moral tale.

The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way
And then a wise bellwether sheep
Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep
And drew the flock behind him, too
As good bellwethers always do
And from that day o'er hill and glade
Through those old woods a path was made.

The years passed on in swiftness fleet
The road became a village street
And this, before men were aware
A city's crowded thoroughfare
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.

Each day a hundred thousand rout
followed this calf about
And o'er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.

They followed still his crooked way
And lost one hundred years a day
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.

For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind
And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.


- Anonymous