The Winding Road

Just beyond Summer’s Dale,
Beyond the caverns where autumn fell,  
Over hills where winter grew,
There lies a spring I never knew.
It has been said, by many tongues,
That undertaken, once begun,
Journey’s end led more than one
To come to rest where roses bloom.
To this end, I fear,
My journey’s end
Is drawing near.
The tallest leaves begun to fall
And chill creeps onward up my spine.
But how I long,
How I long,
To see the land where roses bloom.