THE HATEFUL ROAD
Oh pleasant things there be
Without this prison yard:
Fields green, and many a tree
With shadow on the sward,
And drifting clouds that pass
Sailing above the grass.
All lovely things that be
Beyond this strong abode
Send comfort back to me;
Yea, everything I see
Except the hateful road;
The road that runs so free
With many a dip and rise,
That waves and beckons me
And mocks and calls at me
And will not let me be
Even when I close my eyes.