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White in the moon the long road lies,
The moon stands blank above;
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.
Still hangs the hedge without a gust,
Still, still the shadows stay:
My feet upon the moonlit dust
Pursue the ceaseless way.
The world is round, so travellers tell,
And straight though reach the track,
Trudge on, trudge on, ’twill all be well,
The way will guide one back.
But ere the circle homeward hies
Far, far must it remove:
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.
Public Domain
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Ah, the music. Spring water to my dry mouth
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Yes, spring water.
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Beautiful, musical poem. I wonder if it was ever put to music…
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It is songlike.
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Poem As beautiful as “Loveliest of Trees” I have delivered more than once at the graveside of friends, notably a dear Englishman, Tony Watts, From E. Sussex, who was the “Black Sheep of his family because of his great adventures in the world. He was integral in my upbringing (taught me “The Ballad of Eskimo Nell” he could recite from scratch (look it up—filthiest poem in our tongue!) He was a “Hobbit” as Tolkien described them in the beginning of that tale, which I take as the perfect
“sketch” on the “English Character,” identifying B. Baggins as a “Burgler” of sorts. Anyway, you’ve given me a new Houseman poem to memorize. I am grateful.
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Thanks for this, Sean.
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