From the Rock Island Argus, October 1, 1912.
By Duncan M. Smith.
I love the open road that down
The river winds away
And reaches on from town to town
Through fields with flowers gay,
That offers here and there a nook
Beneath a shady tree
Where proper folk ne’er think to look
Nor prying eye may see.
I love the high and open sky;
I love it when it’s gray.
I love the swallows as they fly,
The fishes when they play.
I love the crashing thunderstorm
When ‘neath a stack content,
All snuggled up, serene and warm,
I watch it till it’s spent.
I love the wind that comes and goes
With soft and slumb’rous sigh
And flutters hollyhock and rose
Whene’er it passes by.
It kisses tramp and money king
Alike in open day.
The praises of the road I sing
And tramp upon my way.