- (1890-1911)
- by Sam Walter Foss
- “He was a friend to man, and lived In a house by the
side of the road.” —Homer
- There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
- In the place of their self-content;
- There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
- In a fellowless firmament;
- There are pioneer souls that blaze the paths
- Where highways never ran—
- But let me live by the side of the road
- And be a friend to man.
- Let me live in a house by the side of the road
- Where the race of men go by—
- The men who are good and the men who are bad,
- As good and as bad as I.
- I would not sit in the scorner’s seat
- Nor hurl the cynic’s ban—
- Let me live in a house by the side of the road
- And be a friend to man.
- I see from my house by the side of the road
- By the side of the highway of life,
- The men who press with the ardor of hope,
- The men who are faint with the strife,
- But I turn not away from their smiles and tears,
- Both parts of an infinite plan—
- Let me live in a house by the side of the road
- And be a friend to man.
- I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead,
- And mountains of wearisome height;
- That the road passes on through the long afternoon
- And stretches away to the night.
- And still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice
- And weep with the strangers that moan,
- Nor live in my house by the side of the road
- Like a man who dwells alone.
- Let me live in my house by the side of the road,
- Where the race of men go by—
- They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are
strong,
- Wise, foolish—so am I.
- Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat,
- Or hurl the cynic’s ban?
- Let me live in my house by the side of the road
- And be a friend to man.
