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Alfred Noyes - The Little RoadsAlfred Noyes - The Little Roads
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The great roads are all grown over   That seemed so firm and white. The deep black forests have covered them.   How should I walk aright? How should I thread these tangled mazes,   Or grope to that far off light? I stumble round the thickets, and they turn me   Back to the thickets and the night. Yet, sometimes, at a word, an elfin pass-word,   (O, thin, deep, sweet with beaded rain!) There shines, through a mist of ragged-robins,   The old lost April-coloured lane, That leads me from myself; for, at a whisper,   Where the strong limbs thrust in vain, At a breath, if my heart help another heart,   The path shines out for me again. A thin thread, a rambling lane for lovers   To the light of the world`s one May, Where the white dropping flakes may wet our faces   As we lift them to the bloom-bowed spray: O Master, shall we ask Thee, then, for high-roads,   Or down upon our knees and pray That Thou wilt ever lose us in Thy little lanes,   And lead us by a wandering way.
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