Let others keep the beaten track,
1
The straight and narrow path of fears,
Like timid travellers looking back
At any sound that meets their ears;
Shall I, because some neighbour jeers,
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Follow the same dull road as he;
Or steer the coward course he steers?—
The lure of the road unknown for me.
A hickory stick, a shouldered pack,
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Bread and a book, the wine that cheers,
The sun and moon for almanack,
The planets leaning on their spears,
A bush for inn as twilight nears,
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And somewhere through it all the sea;
Afoot again as morning peers—
The lure of the road unknown for me.
When comes the fatal click and clack
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Of Time's relentless iron shears,
When the thin ice of life goes crack,
And the black gulf beneath uprears,
And all the kind world disappears;
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Still, as of old, my cry shall be,
Somewhere high up amid the spheres—
The lure of the road unknown for me.
Dear Prince, the old romantic years
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Were filled with glory, girls and glee;
But, though I love them through my tears—
The lure of the road unknown for me.