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Rachel Lyman Field

Cranberry Road

I'd like to be walking the Cranberry Road,

Where the sea shines blue through the bristling firs,

And the rocky pastures are overgrown

With bayberry and junipers;

Where orchards of bent old apple trees

Go trooping down to the pebbly shore,

And the clapboard houses are seaward turned,

With larkspur clumps at every door;

Where there's plenty of time to say good-day

When friendly eyes from a window peer.

Oh, I wish I were back on the Cranberry Road

I'd rather be there than here.