Author Arthur Edward Waite One life alone, one end, one way to reach;But many substitutes and ghosts of each: Lord, lest the false lights—moving round and round—Too long bewray, do Thou, with secret speech, Direct us truly unto stable ground! Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments