a house by the side of the road

a house by the
side of the road

for sam walter foss

my mother would recite to me
the “house by the side of the road”;
her eyes alight, i could see that she loved
every word of that fossian ode.

it became for me a psalm of sorts,
a golden rule in metric mode;
much good might come if i could live
in a house by the side of the road.

i’d have to eschew the scorner’s seat,
neither let my judgments corrode
the mettle of the common man
drawn to my humble abode.

i’d have to give freely of myself,
from the stores that nature bestowed;
a friend to man requires much more
than a house by the side of the road.

i’d certainly have to identify with
the throngs of men going by. neither goad
nor enabler be, but a silent tongue &
trusted ear for their burdens to unload.

come to me, i’d say, i’ll give you rest,
only goodness & mercy showed;
no words of reproach or allusions to
reaping what they sowed.

& then came the day when i put to test
the wisdom that poem had bestowed;
& yes, they came, that human throng
to my house by the side of the road.

they beat me up & robbed me blind,
took what i had & all that i owed,
so much for being a friend to man
in a house by the side of the road.


© Joseph D. McNair; 2009