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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE MAGIC OF ROADS, by GERNIE HUNTER
First Line: Sometimes my heart rebels at concrete's gray
Last Line: Where the grass grows deep, and a hill road bends.
Subject(s): Roads; Paths; Trails
First Line: Sometimes my heart rebels at concrete's gray
Last Line: Where the grass grows deep, and a hill road bends.
Subject(s): Roads; Paths; Trails
Sometimes my heart rebels at concrete's gray
And even flow, through patient fields that wait
The will of man: insipid miles that state
With smug, unvaried line, while I inveigh
Against monotony. But though the way
Be somewhat dull, the road too long and straight,
It still is free from urban dins, that grate
And grind stout hearts to shells of russet clay.
But best of all the roads that bind a crown
Of spruce to hills, or lace a virgin land
Unmarred by plowshare's thrust, where stars lean down
To lull the restless birds, and tall trees stand
Against the sky. Tranquility descends
Where the grass grows deep, and a hill road bends.
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