Some folks love the mountains,
	Some love the open plains,
Some love the deep wide valley,
        Some an open sea.
But, oh, I love a winding road,
	That temps me ever on,
Where new delights are sure,
	To welcome me.

I want to go toward the west,
	Where purple mountains rest,
Until at last I gain their peaks,
	Up near the sky.
And there I want to view the sight,
	That stretches far below,
And wander up on and on,
	Where other fear to go.

So I must have a winding road,
	To travel all the way,
And then my sun is setting low,
	At the close of day,
I’ve seen the sights that others love,
	The open plains with blue above,
The brook, the mountain’s sheen,
	The lovely valley in between.

The shady wood along the way,
	The twilight hour, the morn’s first ray,
The silver moon up there on high,
	The starry sky,
The wide and ever changing sea,
	My roads have brought them all to me.

Katherine Carey-Place 1878-1934

Copyright Roy Richard