Hello readers!

I came across a lovely poem just now by Sir Walter Foss, and I love that it speaks to mankind’s need for community. I’ll say little more than that it warmed my heart reading it, because it reminded me of how we all wish to live in a place where we can call on our fellow neighbor, a friend, or even a stranger for help. Whether it be to ask  for that cliche’ cup of sugar (if we’re being real, sometimes a plunger :)), or in my case, some shampoo and conditioner when running late for work and there’s no time to run to the store, regardless, whether you wish it or not, we all need other people in our lives … and they need us.

Personally I’m also reminded of Romans 12:15-16a , “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.”

Alrighty… as always, happy reading!

THE HOUSE BY THE SIDE OF THE ROAD

“He was a friend to man, and lived

In a house by the side of the road.” ~Homer

 

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn

In the place of their self-content;

There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,

In the fellowless firmament;

There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths

Where highways never ran —

But let me live by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

 

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,

Where the race of men go by —

The men who are good and the men who are bad,

As good and as bad as I.

I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,

Or hurl the cynic’s ban —

Let me live in a house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

 

I see from my house by the side of the road

By the side of the highway of life,

The men who press with the ardor of hope,

The men who are faint with the strife.

But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears,

Both parts of an infinite plan —

Let me live in a house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.

 

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead

And the mountains of wearisome height;

That the road passes on through the long afternoon

And stretches away to the night.

But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,

And weep with the strangers than moan,

Nor live in my house by the side of the road

Like a man who dwells alone.

 

Let me live in my house by the side of the road —

It’s here the race of men go by.

They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,

Wise foolish — so am I;

Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat,

Or hurl the cynic’s ban?

Let me live in my house by the side of the road

And be a friend to man.