4 FEBRUARY 1905, Page 16

FROM the blinking surf where the Lizard sprawls

There is many a road to stir the blood Of him who fareth forth ; All roads seem good to the wise of mood, But of all the roads that be,

My chosen way is the broad Ridgeway,

That is home and friend to me.

Now new-made roads are ruts for toads, Girls' ribbons, wilful things ; But the Roman wrought, as a Roman ought,

A street for the cars of Kings.

He hurled his chain o'er the breast-broad plain Sheer forthright to its bent, Like a fetter forged on the giant flank Of a captive continent.

He passed; his legionaries tread A dimmer, greyer plain Than Ashdown field, where, shield to shield, Clashed Wessex man and Dane.

But folk who travel Lambourn way At eve from Wantage town, Still hear a Latin watchword ring Across the drowsy down; And sentinels with falcon face Beneath a ghostly moon, Clank starkly round the thymy mound Where shepherds lolled at noon; The gates divide, and like a tide 'The whispering legion swings, With tarnished eagles, down the elope To tame the Briton Kings.

But I am a man of the common kind, I see no fiercer sight Than the old hawthorn at sentry-go And the glowworm's cresset alight; The wonderful breath of the sleeping earth Drifts from the land below, And the big and little stars of God They watch me as I go.

Let the valley lanes seem good to those Who love a guarded way ; The place of my soul is the wind-scoured down Where the red sun burns all day ; And 0 ! the road, the gallant road !

Let me follow and touch my friend,—

The great green snake of turf that glides With never a coil nor bend.

Fetid and foul are the city streets ; O let me once more feel The ample wind in my shoulder-parts And the leaping turf at my heel ! O let me fly from the tunnelled ways And the antheap towns of toil, To breast the brow of Wantage Hill, And smell the ancient soil!

Now some love women, and these are wise; And some love ale and wine; And the poet's art is life to the heart, But a road is a thing divine.

There are roads of the best 'twixt East and West, But of all the roads that be, 0 the royal way, the broad Ridgeway, Is the king of roads for me! ST. JOHN LUCAS.