The road is swung out across the great plain And up through the clay hills, A long and quivering lash; It whisks by river and town Asmoke with the scud of a thousand seekers; Whether we will it or no We must follow the swing of the road. I would pause and grow still With this colorful silence of autumn:— With the violet haze that sleeps up the draws; With the lilac smoke of the asters; The dark seed-plumes of the weeds; And the harlequin riot of sedges In orange and umber and green; With the unstained blue of the sky That startles through gold-feathered branches. I would pause and grow still With this poignant, sweet smell Of the polychrome burning of leaves; With the faint, dusty rustle of winds in the corn; With the purposeless weaving of broken corn leaves, Like very old men telling very old tales of their youth: But I must speed on up the purpling road, Past the sudden glad flame of the poplar, Through the drifting, gold pools that the maple leaves make As they eddy down through the sun. Perhaps, when long winter nights come— No! God grant, I may speed, even then, Over long, snowy roads—to some sunrise! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NAMING FOR LOVE by HAYDEN CARRUTH A WINTER'S NIGHT by ROBERT FROST TO EMILIE BIGELOW HAPGOOD - PHILANTHROPIST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BEFORE A PAINTING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON DEAF HOUSE AGENT by KATHERINE MANSFIELD |