Spirits in Bondage: A Cycle of Lyrics

XXXIV. The Roads

     I stand on the windy uplands among the hills of Down
     With all the world spread out beneath, meadow and sea and town,
     And ploughlands on the far-off hills that glow with friendly brown.

     And ever across the rolling land to the far horizon line,
     Where the blue hills border the misty west, I see the white roads twine,
     The rare roads and the fair roads that call this heart of mine.

     I see them dip in the valleys and vanish and rise and bend
     From shadowy dell to windswept fell, and still to the West they wend,
     And over the cold blue ridge at last to the great world's uttermost end.

     And the call of the roads is upon me, a desire in my spirit has grown
     To wander forth in the highways, 'twixt earth and sky alone,
     And seek for the lands no foot has trod and the seas no sail has known:

     For the lands to the west of the evening and east of the morning's birth,
     Where the gods unseen in their valleys green are glad at the ends of the earth
     And fear no morrow to bring them sorrow, nor night to quench their mirth.