The Old Woods Road

It blunders off through ways obscure The old woods road I used to tread, Until its columned walls immure The sunbeams dripping overhead. Through scented gloom it seems to wind O’er fallen branches mossy green, And leaving all the world behind Gropes blindly toward a world unseen. The ancient wheel ruts disappear With pine and scrub oak overgrown, No creaking wain for many a year Has trailed its coverts wild and lone. “I wonder where that old road goes?” I hear some blithe young voices say And I might tell them if I chose “Back to the land of yesterday.”