Submitted by JBD
There are hermit souls who live withdrawn
In the peace of their self-content;
There are souls like the stars that dwell apart
In the fallow less firmament.
There are pioneer souls who blaze their paths
Where the highways never ran;
But let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by;
They are good and they are bad
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,
No hurl the cynic’s ban.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
And be a friend to man.
I see from my house by the side of the road;
By the broad highway of life;
Men who pass with the ardor of hope,
And men who faint in the strife.
But I turn not from their smiles nor their tears,
Both parts of the infinite plan,
Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
And be a friend to man.
I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
And mountains of wearisome height;’
That the road passes on through the long afternoon,
And reaches away in the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers who moan;
Nor live I in my house by the side of the road
Like one who dwells alone.
Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by;
They are good and they are bad—
Wise, foolish—so am I,
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat
Or hurl the cynic’s ban?
