AND THE ROAD LEADS GENTLY, GENTLY . .
THE road leads gently, gently, all the way ; the sun beats down on the road, and the dust is white, and the air vibrates with the call of the hungry sea, and the cry of the sea-gulls haunt the velvet night.
The cottages are weathered and old and bent, and the garden walls are lichened a greeny-grey, and a great grey church stands high on a neighbouring hill, and the road leads gently, gently, all the way.
They say on a night when the clear moon pales the stars, with the air still warm from the heat of a summer's day, that the gulls will gather together the whole night through, and mortals will understand what the sea-birds say.
The air is magic here, and the tale rings true. Tonight the moon will be clear and the gulls will cry, and the old foolishness tells me I must go, and the night shall belong to the plaintive gulls and I.
Here in the shade I wait with a quiet mind, and the sun beats down on the road in the heat of the day, where the air vibrates to the call of the hungry sea, and the road leads gently, gently, all the way.
JUDYTH MoNNiacumitst.
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