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.