THE FOOTPATH WAY
by: Katharine Tynan Hinkson
(1861-1931)
- HE winding
road lies white and bare,
- Heavy in dust that takes the glare;
- The thirsty hedgerows and parched grass
- Dream of a time when no road was.
-
- Beyond, the fields are full in view,
- Heavy in herbage and in dew;
- The great-eyed kine browse thankfully;
- Come, take the footpath way with me!
-
- This stile, where country lovers tryst,
- Where many a man and maid have kissed,
- Invites us sweetly, and the wood
- Beckons us to her solitude.
-
- Leave men and lumbering wains behind,
- And dusty roads, all blank and blind;
- Come tread on velvet and on silk,
- Damasked with daisies, white as milk.
-
- Those dryads of the wood, that some
- Call the wild hyacinths, now are come,
- And hold their revels in a night
- Of emerald flecked with candle-light.
-
- The fountains of the meadows play,
- This is the wild bee's holiday;
- When summer-snows have sweetly dressed
- The pasture like a wedding-guest,
-
- By fields of beans that shall eclipse
- The honey on the rose's lips,
- With woodruff and the new hay's breath,
- And wild thyme sweetest in her death,
-
- Skirting the rich man's lawn and hall,
- The footpath way is free to all;
- For us his pinks and roses blow:
- Fling him thanksgiving ere we go!
-
- By orchards yet in rosy veils,
- By hidden nests of nightingales,
- Through lonesome valleys where all day
- The rabbit people scurry and play,
-
- The footpath sets her tender lure.
- This is the country for the poor;
- The high-road seeks the crowded sea;
- Come, take the footpath way with me!
"The Footpath Way" is
reprinted from The Home Book of Verse. Ed. Burton Egbert
Stevenson. New York: Henry Holt & Co, 1915. |
MORE POEMS BY KATHARINE TYNAN HINKSON |
|