The House
by the Side of the Road

Sam Walter Foss

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the peace of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths,
Where highways never ran ----
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by -
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban -
Let me live in the house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from the house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan -
Let me live in the house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
And mountains of wearisome height,
That the road passes on through the long afternoon,
And stretches away to the night.
And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice
And weep with the strangers that moan,
As I live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

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