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 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
A SONG OF THE ROAD
Speed, speed, speedThrough the day, through the night!
Cities are beads on the thread of our flight;
Peaks melt in peaks and are lost in the air.
Speed, speed, speed—
But, O, the dearth of it,
Thou not there!
262
What's all the world if love's not the soul of it;
What were the worth of it—
Thou not there!
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |