WHERE confident, calm I strode, <br />I walk with hesitant feet; <br />For at yonder turn of the road <br />What shall I meet? <br />The youth of the day has gone, <br />And my shadow goes before; <br />I know that the road runs on — <br />I know no more. <br />I have travelled a goodly way, <br />As one at a glance may see, <br />Since the East and the break o' day <br />Called out to me. <br />Though the highway be hard to miss <br />With its signs and stones and such, <br />The worst of the road is this — <br />It turns too much. <br />For a part of its length it flows <br />(Too brief is that stretch, alas!) <br />'Twixt hedges of palm and rose, <br />O'er fern and grass. <br />The butterfly fancies flit <br />On their lit wings, gossamer-frail; <br />And a host of roysterers sit <br />At cakes and ale. <br />With the flight of their glory hour, <br />The Fancies flutter and die; <br />And the nectared heart of the flower <br />Grows sere and dry. <br />Though the cakes and ale are done, <br />And the roysterer's moment gone, <br />Yet under the slanting sun <br />The road winds on. <br />Good-bye to the flower and fern, <br />And the hedges at each grass-side! — <br />Maybe at the next road-turn <br />New pleasures hide. <br />New pleasures? 'Tis turned, and lo! <br />Hot miles and a driving dust <br />'Twixt trees that are grey as woe, <br />Gnarled limbs out-thrust! <br />Yet Hope is a bright allure, <br />A light in the hearts of men — <br />At the end of a league, for sure, <br />'Twill turn again. <br />Though the highway be hard to miss <br />With its signs and stones and such, <br />The best of the road is this — <br />It turns so much! <br />Towards the turn of the roadway you <br />I walk with hesitant feet; <br />When I come to the turn, anon — <br />What shall I meet?<br /><br />Roderic Quinn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-turn-of-the-road-2/
