Road Song

Give me the clear blue sky overhead, and the long road to my feet, And the winds of heaven to winnow me through, and a brother tramp to greet, With an Inn at the end of day for rest, and the world may keep its bays⁠— For these are the gifts of the wayside gods, and the gifts that I would praise. Come from the murk of your city streets to the tent of all the world, When your final word on Art is said, and your flag of Faith is furled, When your heart no longer gives a throb at the first faint breath of Spring⁠— Ah, turn your feet to the ribbon-road with a chorus all may sing! Then give me the clear blue sky overhead, and the long road to my feet, And a dog to tell my secrets to, and a brother tramp to meet⁠— And the years may take their toll of me till I come to the weary West, And I lodge for good in the world’s own Inn, a wayworn, waiting guest!