Tell me, oh gypsy roadway, Why do I follow you on? On through the purple of twilight, On through the gold of the dawn? Westward, across the prairie You stretch,—mile upon mile, Glaring,—blistering,—searing,— With never a tree to beguile! Yet flanking the withering roadway The sunflowers, row upon row, Like stars in that heavenly highway, Toss kisses to me as I go! Beyond the distant prairie There rises a mountainous wall; Like a picture, the sun in its glory Descends, a flaming gold ball; And I follow you into the sunset, Watching rich beauty unfold— Into those glamorous mountains, Etched—in silver and gold. Ah, little sunflower sister, I, too, have drunk of the sun! Now I know, little gypsy roadway, Why I follow you on! |