The Road Less Traveled

“He was a friend to man, and lived In a house by the side of the road.”- Homer

Admirers of Sam Walter Foss’s poem, “The House by the Side of the Road,” are many. The story of his writing it is known to few. He was an enthusiastic traveler, and on one of his trips through England he came, at the top of a long hill, to a little unpainted house almost in the road, so near it was. Near one side was a queerly constructed signpost finger pointing to a well-worn path and a sign, “Come in and have a cool drink.” Following the path, he found in the side of the bank, some distance from the house, a spring of ice-cold water into which a barrel had been sunk and above which hung an old-fashioned gourd dipper; and on a bench nearby-a wonder-was a basket of fragrant apples with another sign, “Help yourself.”

Scenting a story, he went back to the house, where he found a childless old couple in straitened circumstances, with the rocky farm as their only source of livelihood. But it was rich in the delicious spring water and an abundance of fruit; so the sign was placed guiding to the water, and from the time of ripening of the first purple plum to the harvesting of the last apple a basket of whatever fruit might be in season was placed near, so that everyone passing might rest upon the long hill and refresh himself.

The old gentleman explained that they were too poor to give money, so took this way to add their mite to the world’s well-doing.

The beautiful thought and its helpfulness so impressed Foss that he immortalized with his pen the spirit of the ideal home:

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The House by the Side of the Road
by Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911)

“He was a friend to man, and lived
In a house by the side of the road.”
— Homer

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran-
But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man. -

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man. -

I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears,
Both parts of an infinite plan-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice.
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone. -

Let me live in my house by the side of the road-
It’s here the race of men go by.
They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish- so am I;
Then why should I sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban?
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I LIKE: Summer mornings , . . Canyons at dusk … The desert at night … Women in crispy dresses … The aroma of new leather … The mountains at daybreak … and the echo of a hymn coming from a church on Sunday morning.

I DON’T LIKE: Starched shirt collars … Crabby women … Complaining men … Whipped dogs … Soggy bathing suits … The smell of foot powder … Wilted head lettuce … and warm soda pop.

I LIKE: A sun setting over a quiet lake … Shade trees … Rose bushes in the early morning … The beat of a bass drum in a military parade … Cold lemonade … Lilac bushes … and the lights on airplanes in the sky at night.

I DON’T LIKE: The smell of glue . . . Dull pencils … Narrow hallways … Mousetraps … Dead fish … Sad music … Red telephones … drawers … and intolerant people. Mules … Shoes that don’t fit … Cluttered

I LIKE: Chinese figurines … Accordian music … Thick rugs … Night rodeos … County fairs … Cold beef … A smile from the boss … The feel of a new baseball … and the sound of merry-go-round music in the park on a summer night.

I DON’T LIKE: Wind … Dreary days … Torn telephone books … Impolite people … Loud women … Pompous people … Parking meters … Chairs that squeak … Parsnips . . . Weeds … Cold soup … Stale bread … and people who don’t like children.

I LIKE: Circus clowns … Banjo music … Stories with happy endings … Siamese cats … Collie dogs . . . Tulips … The smell of good soap … Green trees … Organ music … Rainy afternoons tains. . and snow on the tops of moun-

I DON’T LIKE: Cracks in sidewalks … Cluttered ashtrays … Mice … Dill pickles … Arguments … Diesel fumes … Loud politicians … Zippers that don’t zip … The smell of gasoline … Spiders … and the lonely sound of a telephone ringing at 3 o’clock in the morning.

I LIKE: Home runs at baseball games … Neon lights at night … The smell of tar … Big porches on old houses … Watching monkeys at the zoo … Summer thunderstorms … British accents … Church bells … and the sound of a freight train in the mountains.

I DON’T LIKE: Screen doors that bang … Empty ice cube trays … Men who never have anything nice to say about their wives at parties … Wet newspapers … Professional pessimists … Poor loser … Dented garbage cans … and people who feel sorry for themselves. I LIKE: Waltzes … The month of October … Calliope music . . . The first day of a vacation … Zebras … Watermelons … A full moon . . . Travel folders … The sound of a waterfall … Logs burning in a fireplace … and the sound of children playing at recess in a school yard.

I DON’T LIKE: Sad strangers … Gossip … Broken shoelaces … Empty houses … Hotel lobbies at 3 o’clock in the morning … Pins in new shirts … The smell of varnish … Tangled telephone cords … and people who never have anything nice to say about other people.

I LIKE: Frost on a windowpane . . . Cold apples … Black jelly beans … Big leather chairs … Wild sunflowers … Christmas Eves … English bulldogs … The smell of new sawdust … and women with laughing eyes.