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Paul Laurence Dunbar - To The Road
Work rating: Low

Cool is the wind, for the summer is waning,
      Who `s for the road?
  Sun-flecked and soft, where the dead leaves are raining,
      Who `s for the road?
  Knapsack and alpenstock press hand and shoulder,
  Prick of the brier and roll of the boulder;
  This be your lot till the season grow older;
      Who `s for the road?

  Up and away in the hush of the morning,
      Who `s for the road?
  Vagabond he, all conventions a-scorning,
      Who `s for the road?
  Music of warblers so merrily singing,
  Draughts from the rill from the roadside up-springing,
  Nectar of grapes from the vines lowly swinging,
      These on the road.

  Now every house is a hut or a hovel,
      Come to the road:
  Mankind and moles in the dark love to grovel,
      But to the road.
  Throw off the loads that are bending you double;
  Love is for life, only labor is trouble;
  Truce to the town, whose best gift is a bubble:
      Come to the road!
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