Once I heard a Hobo, singing by the tie-trail, <br />Squatting by the red rail rusty with the dew: <br />Singing of the firelight, singing of the high-trail <br />Singing to the morning as the dawn broke through: <br />'Saddle, rail, or pack-sack—any way you take it: <br />Choose a pal and try him, but on your own is best. <br />Sand, clay, or cinders—any way to make it, <br />Looking for To-morrow down the long road West.' <br />Far across the ranges, over where the sea swings, <br />Battering the raw ledge, booming up the sand: <br />There I heard a sailor telling what the sea sings, <br />Sings to every sailor when he longs for land: <br />'When you've saved your cash and when you've done your hitch, sir; <br />—Holystone and hardtack, buckle to the test— <br />When you're back in port and your feet begin to itch, sir, <br />Think about To-morrow and the long road West.' <br />Slowly came a cowboy riding round the night-herd; <br />Silver was the starlight, slender was the moon: <br />Then I heard him singing, lonely as a night-bird, <br />Pony's head a-nodding to the queer old tune: <br />'Wind, rain, sunshine—every kind of weather: <br />Sweating on the mesa, freezing on the crest: <br />Me and just my shadow, jogging on together, <br />Jogging on together down the long road West.' <br />Lazy was the cool stream slipping through the far light <br />Shadowing the buckthorn high along the hill, <br />When I heard a bird sing softly in the starlight, <br />Singing in the evening when the trees were still: <br />'Valley, range, and high trail, mesa, butte and river: <br />Sun across the lowlands, rolling down to rest: <br />There'll always be a skyline, running on forever, <br />Running on forever, down the long road West.'<br /><br />Henry Herbert Knibbs<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-long-road-west/
