White in the moon the long road lies,
The world is round, so travellers tell,
The moon stands blank above;
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.
Still hangs the hedge without a gust,
Still, still the shadows stay:
My feet upon the moonlit dust
Pursue the ceaseless way.
And straight though reach the track,
Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill
all be well,
The way will guide one back.
But ere the circle homeward hies
Far, far must it remove:
White in the moon the long road lies
That leads me from my love.
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Page last updated: 11 November 1998 ©1998-1999, Richard J. Yanco |