The House by the Side of the Road
Sam Walter Foss
1858 to 1911
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Let me live in a house by the side the road,
Where the race of men go by—
men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban;—
Let me live in a house by the of the road
And be a friend to man.
see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The who press with the ardor of hope,
The men are faint with the strife.
But I turn not from their smiles nor their tears—
Both parts of infinite plan;—
Let me live in my house the side of the road
And be a friend man.
I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And of wearisome height;
And the road passes on through long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.
Let me live in my house by the side the road
Where the race of men go by—
are good, they are bad, they are weak, they strong,
Wise, foolish—so am I.
Then why should I in the scorner's seat
Or hurl the cynic's ban?—
Let me live in my house by the side the road
And be a friend to man.