The Joys Of The Road
Bliss Carman
1861 to 1929
Track 1
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The silent fleck of the cold new moon;
A crimson touch on the hard-wood trees;
By marsh and tide, by meadow and stream,
A shadowy highway cool and brown,
Seeing it good as when God first saw
A lyric touch of solitude;
The broad gold wake of the afternoon;
And gave it the weight of his will for law.
Alluring up and enticing down
From purple glory to scarlet pomp;
A comrade neither glum nor merry,
From stormy tumult to starry peace;
But, smiling, takes the world in his hands,—
And oh, the joy that is never won,
And the striding heart from hill to hill;
When the stealthy sad-heart leaves go home;
For him who travels without a load.
In early fall, when the wind walks too;
And two brown arms at the journey's end!
The racy smell of the forest loam,
These are the joys of the open road—
But follows and follows the journeying sun,
The cobweb bloom on the yellow quince;
And a hope to make the day go through,—
The palish asters along the wood,—
To wake me up at the voice of a bird;
A will-o'-the-wind, a light-o'-dream,
Now the joys of the road are chiefly these:
Who never defers and never demands,
With only another league to wend;
The outward eye, the quiet will,
The sound of the hollow sea's release
A vagrant's morning wide and blue,
An open hand, an easy shoe,
Another to sleep with, and a third
A scrap of gossip at the ferry;
From rippled water to dappled swamp,
The tempter apple over the fence;