No better thing would I ever ask

Than to strike for the road - alone.

Walking in rain, bareheaded I'd go,

And steadily I'd tramp on

Toward the lift of the road over the hill

That goes to the world beyond.

With a good stiff wind to push against,

For feeling the joy of a fight,

And cool on my fever heated face

The raindrops beating fresh;

And to walk and walk away and away

Into the dark and the night,

Toward the lift of the road that goes over the hill

And out to the busy world

With its thousands of chances in city and town

For an eager man like me,

Where from harbors broad great ships go down

And out on the mighty sea.

And oh, for the chance to get away!

How joyfully I'd stride on!

Toward that lift in the road that goes over the hill

And out to the world beyond.