Roads... I love roads: The goddesses that dwell far along invisible are my favourite gods.

Roads go on
while we forget, and are
Forgotten like a star
That shoots and is gone.

On this earth 'tis sure
We men have not made
anything that doth fade
so soon, so long endure:

the hill road wet with rain
In the sun would not gleam
Like a winding stream
If we trod it not again.

They are lonely
While we sleep, lonelier
For lack of the traveller
Who is now a dream only.

From dawn's twilight
and all the clouds like sheep
On the mountains of sleep
On the mountains of dreams
they wind into the night.

The next turn may reveal
Heaven: upon the crest
The close pine clump, at rest
And black, may Hell conceal.

Often footsore, never
Yet of the road I weary,
Through long and steep and dreary
As it winds on for ever.

At morn and night I hear
When the thrush cock sings
Bright irrelevant things,
And when the chanticleer

Calls back to their own night
Troops that make loneliness
With their light footsteps' press,
As hell's own are light.

Now all roads lead to 'hell'
And heavy is the tread
Of the living: but the dead
Returning lightly dance:

Whatever the road bring
to me or take from me,
They keep me company
with their pattering.

Crowding the solitude
Of the loops over downs,
Hushing the roar of towns
and their brief multitude.
With grief and joy...