Neighborly Ideals for November

This is from the shreds of an old book of "common" (for lack of a better word...populist, perhaps...?) American poetry, which seems to be about 100 years old.

The pages are persistent in citing the author as "unknown" and so shall I, unless otherwise stated.

And, yes, I know I'm a few days early.


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Two Roads To Town

'Twere a dull old world, methinks, my friend,
If we all went just one way;
Yet our paths will meet, no doubt at the end,
Though they lead apart today.

You like the shade and I, the sun;
You like an even pace.
I like to mix with the crowd and run,
And then rest after the race.

I like danger and storm and strife;
You like a peaceful time.
I like the passion and surge of life,
You like its gentle rhyme.

Your path is the right one, and so is mine.
We are not like peas in a pod
Compelled to lie in a certain line
Or else be scattered abroad.

I must live my life, not yours, my friend,
For so it was written down;
We must follow our paths to the end,
But I trust we shall meet in town.