ON THE ROADS.

THE road winds onward long and white,

It curves in mazy coils, and crooks

A beckoning finger down the height;

It calls me with the voice of brooks

To thirsty travellers in the night.

I leave the lonely city street,

The awful silence of the crowd;

The rhythm of the roads I beat,

My blood leaps up, I shout aloud,

My heart keeps measure with my feet.

Nought know, nought care I whither I wend:

‘ Tis on, on, on, or here or there.

What profiteth it an aim or end?

I walk, and the road leads anywhere.

Then forward, with the Fates to friend!

‘ Tis on and on! Who knows but thus

Kind Chance shall bring us luck at last?

Adventures to the adventurous!

Hope flies before, and the hours slip past:

O what have the hours in store for us?

A bird sings something in my ear,

The wind sings in my blood a song

Tis good at times for a man to hear;

The road winds onward white and long,

And the best of Earth is here!