The Roman Road runs straight and bare

As the pale parting-line in hair

Across the heath.  And thoughtful men

Contrast its days of Now and Then,

And delve, and measure, and compare;

Visioning on the vacant air

Helmed legionaries, who proudly rear

The Eagle, as they pace again

   The Roman Road.

But no tall brass-helmed legionnaire

Haunts it for me.  Uprises there

A mother’s form upon my ken,

Guiding my infant steps, as when

We walked that ancient thoroughfare,

   The Roman Road.