Alone I walk a weary road,
Ascending mountains steep and cold,
Below are valleys dark and deep
Through which bright headlights creep.
As the sunsets behind a distant crest,
I turn my aching feet toward home,
Longing for a good night’s rest,
Instead, I enter woods with trees so tall,
That they hide the twinkling stars.
With still a thousand miles to go,
Before I reached my family’s hearth,
I sit beside an ancient oak,
And close my tear filled eyes in sleep:
A joyful voice penetrates my dreams,
He said, “Your travels will someday end,
Don’t give up hope or give in
To loneliness and despair.”
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