Ah, the road in the morning was glad and fair,
But at night the light from the early star
Was a white ship bearing me home again
From the far countries where the dream worlds are.
And there was my own mother waiting me
All tender and sweet in the front yard grass,
And there was a bed snug up to the eaves
Willing to welcome a little lass.
But now, ah me, I’m that tired at night,
And the road would be all too weary and long,
And my heart does not lift as it used to do
At hearing the trill of a wild bird’s song,
And there’d be nobody waiting my coming
home . . .
But remembering of it is good and sweet—
Dear God, please make me to know again
The feel of the old road to my feet.
˙23˙