THE GOLDEN SHOES

The winds are lashing on the sea;

The roads are blind with storm.

And it's far and far away with me;

So bide you there, stay warm.

It's forth I must, and forth to-day;

And I have no path to choose.

The highway hill, it is my way still.—

Give me my golden shoes.

God gave them me on that first day

I knew that I was young.

And I looked far forth, from west to north;

And I heard the Songs unsung.

This cloak is worn too threadbare thin,

But ah, how weatherwise!

This girdle serves to bind it in;

What heed of wondering eyes?—

And yet beside, I wear one pride

— Too bright, think you, to use?—

That I must wear, and still keep fair.—

Give here my golden shoes.

God gave them me, on that first day

I heard the Stars all chime.

And I looked forth far, from road to star;

And I knew it was far to climb.

They would buy me house and hearth, no doubt,

And the mirth to spend and share;

Could I sell that gift, and go without,

Or wear — what neighbors wear.

But take my staff, my purse, my scrip;

For I have one thing to choose.

For you,— Godspeed! May you soothe your need.

For me, my golden shoes!

He gave them me, that far, first day

When I heard all Songs unsung.

And I looked far forth, from west to north.

God saw that I was young!