On the road walks a vagrant
with a smile upon his face.
His vision of the future
looks to a vast distant high.
The green mountains of Vermont
are calling him back again.
Soon the view will change once more.
The blacktop road will vanish
and the dirt one will begin.
The green vine will cling to trees,
Violet will rule the sky.
Water from an old cold spring
is just a little further
on the winding grass path,
where a man can quench himself,
as a vase embraces roses.
Then a final resting place,
for a tired forgotten man.
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