The road rises to meet me,
As I set out of my door,
I long have lived in silence,
But no longer can ignore,
The call of far off places,
Of things I haven't seen,
Although I do not know them,
I see them in my dreams,
I throw cloak upon my shoulders,
Good stick in my hand,
I step out of my door,
To explore the rolling land,
I don't know what will happen,
After turn of the next bend,
After crossing of the brook,
Or the last glance of a friend,
I only know that someday,
When with this I'm done,
I will return to home,
And to your arms will run.
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