Dear dusty roadsides where the common weeds
Flourish alike in sheltered nooks or open country meads;
Dear pathways leading where the clear brook wends
Its care-free way in idly curving trends;
Where buttercups and wandering jews entwine
To grace the sod beneath a sturdy pine;
Dear common by-ways, how I love to tread
Upon thy dusty homeward trodden bed.
I love those curves that mirror o’er my way
A flood of sunbeams in the month of May;
Where daisies toss their snow-white fortune heads
And grass springs up to pad the lowly beds.
I love the pastures where each splintered rail
Repeats the oft-told pasture country tale.
I love the haunts of fairy elf and gnome;
They breathe an echo of the paths of home.
The lights of cities hold no lure for me;
From busy highways I have longed to be,
Once more a child to wander o’er the way,
My happy feet have pressed in childhood’s play.
Once more to lie and dream beneath the stars;
Or swing upon the old gates broken bars.
Once more to tread, tho’ distant I may roam
Upon the paths my footsteps know are home.
– Circa 1927