<h2 id="id00138" style="margin-top: 4em">THE LONELY ROAD</h2>
<p id="id00139">We used to fear the lonely road<br/>
That twisted round the hill;<br/>
It dipped down to the river-way,<br/>
And passed the haunted mill,<br/>
And then crept on, until it reached<br/>
The churchyard, green and still.<br/></p>
<p id="id00140">No pipers ever took that road,<br/>
No gipsies, brown and gay;<br/>
No shepherds with their gentle flocks,<br/>
No loads of scented hay;<br/>
No market-waggons jingled by<br/>
On any Saturday.<br/></p>
<p id="id00141">The dog-wood there flung wide its stars,<br/>
In April, silvery sweet;<br/>
The squirrels crossed that path all day<br/>
On tiny flying feet;<br/>
The wild, brown rabbits knew each turn,<br/>
Each shadowy safe retreat.<br/></p>
<p id="id00142">And there the golden-belted bee<br/>
Sang his sweet summer song,<br/>
The crickets chirped there to the moon<br/>
With steady note and strong;<br/>
Till cold and silence wrapped them round<br/>
When autumn nights grew long.<br/></p>
<p id="id00143">But, oh! they brought the lonely dead<br/>
Along that quiet way,<br/>
With strange procession, dark and slow,<br/>
On sunny days and grey;<br/>
We used to watch them, wonder-eyed,<br/>
Nor care again to play.<br/></p>
<p id="id00144">And we forgot each merry jest;<br/>
The birds on bush and tree<br/>
Silenced the song within their throats<br/>
And with us watched to see,<br/>
The soft, slow passing out of sight<br/>
Of that dark mystery.<br/></p>
<p id="id00145">* * * * *</p>
<p id="id00146">We fear no more the lonely road<br/>
That winds around the hill;<br/>
Far from the busy world's highway<br/>
And the gods' slow-grinding mill;<br/>
It only seems a peaceful path,<br/>
Pleasant, and green, and still.<br/></p>
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