A ROADWAY.
There is a little road that winds and winds, But never seems to come to any end, And by it crimson lilies sway and bendAnd shake down petals no one ever finds.
I think the road is hidden through the day, But I walk on it when the twilight makes A dusky splendour over unknown lakesThat glimmer faintly very far away.
And all the trees are hushed and full of sleep And all the birds are gone out of the sky And the white moths have not begun to flyAnd silence is about me soft and deep.
And where the roadway goes to, mile on mile; And why the crimson, lilies are so tall I might find out, and why their petals fallIf only I could stay a little while.
37
