Roads by Amy Lowell Lyrics

I know a country laced with roads,
         They join the hills and they span the brooks,
They weave like a shuttle between broad fields,
         And slide discreetly through hidden nooks.
They are canopied like a Persian dome
         And carpeted with orient dyes.
They are myriad-voiced, and musical,
         And scented with happiest memories.
O Winding roads that I know so well,
         Every twist and turn, every hollow and hill!
They are set in my heart to a pulsing tune
        Gay as a honey-bee humming in June.
'T is the rhythmic beat of a horse's feet
         And the pattering paws of a sheep-dog bitch;
'T is the creaking trees, and the singing breeze,
         And the rustle of leaves in the road-side ditch.

A cow in a meadow shakes her bell
         And the notes cut sharp through the autumn air,
Each chattering brook bears a fleet of leaves
         Their cargo the rainbow, and just now where
         The sun splashed bright on the road ahead
A startled rabbit quivered and fled.
         O Uphill roads and roads that dip down!
You curl your sun-spattered length along,
         And your march is beaten into a song
By the softly ringing hoofs of a horse
         And the panting breath of the dogs I love.
The pageant of Autumn follows its course
         And the blue sky of Autumn laughs above.
And the song and the country become as one,
         I see it as music, I hear it as light;
Prismatic and shimmering, trembling to tone,
         The land of desire, my soul's delight.
And always it beats in my listening ears
         With the gentle thud of a horse's stride,
With the swift-falling steps of many dogs,
         Following, following at my side.
O Roads that journey to fairyland!
         Radiant highways whose vistas gleam,
Leading me on, under crimson leaves,
         To the opaline gates of the Castles of Dream.