Highways
Reading edition
Who’s learned the lure of trodden ways, And walked them up and down, May love a steeple in a mist, But cannot love a town. Who’s worn a bit of purple once Can never, never lie All smothered in a little box When stars are in the sky. Who’s sipped old port in Venice glass May thirst for better brew—He’s drunk an amber wine of sun And wet his mouth with dew! Who’s ground the grist of trodden ways— The gray dust and the brown— May love red tiling two miles off— But cannot love a town.
Leslie Nelson Jennings