To live is to go on a journey, To die is to come back home. My shoe soles are thin with wandering, Sticky with clay and loam, There are marks of stones and of brambles, The leather is scuffed and torn, And I must not have walked quite straight, I think, For the heels are unevenly worn. I shall take off my shoes and sleep and rest ... If I dream, shall I dream that I roam? To live is to go on a journey, To die is to come back home. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE TREES by HAYDEN CARRUTH CURTAIN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON POSTHUMOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON O SOUTHLAND! by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE WORD OF AN ENGINEER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ALONZO CHURCHILL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TWO SONNETS: 2 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |