Afoot

Long is the road ’twixt town and town that runs, Travelled by many a lordly cavalcade, With trappings gay, and rich caparisons, Jester and squire, and laughing knight and maid: With gallant clash and stir they go their way: I trudge afoot thro’ all the drouth of day. For me, the misty meadows fresh with morn, The tramp thro’ noontide heat to evening gray, The far-seen smoke from the day’s goal upborne, The halt, the friendly greeting by the way, The distant hill beyond far hill descried, The road by day, the rest at eventide. I know each wayside wood, each moorland brown, Each hidden by-way and reposeful nook, Where I may linger when the sun goes down, Dipping tired feet in some cool flowing brook; I know the free hill and the glooming glen, And kindly fires, and humble homes of men.