(From the book "To My Home", poem by Alice Cary 1912)
So many, many roads lie traced
Where wanderers may stray -
Roads twining, weaving, interlaced,
Roads sorrowful and gay.
Running through countryside and town
They climb the mountain steep,
Through storied realms of far renown
Unceasingly they creep.
When silver moonlight floods the nights -
O hark! across the sea,
These roads, the wanderer's delights,
Are calling you and me.
Singing their challenge sweet and clear
For wanderers to roam;
But, all at once, I only hear
The road that leads me home!
Gentle Reader, are you going home?
