Departure

  It's little I care what path I take,
  And where it leads it's little I care;
  But out of this house, lest my heart break,
  I must go, and off somewhere.

  It's little I know what's in my heart,
  What's in my mind it's little I know,
  But there's that in me must up and start,
  And it's little I care where my feet go.

  I wish I could walk for a day and a night,
  And find me at dawn in a desolate place
  With never the rut of a road in sight,
  Nor the roof of a house, nor the eyes of a face.

  I wish I could walk till my blood should spout,
  And drop me, never to stir again,
  On a shore that is wide, for the tide is out,
  And the weedy rocks are bare to the rain.

  But dump or dock, where the path I take
  Brings up, it's little enough I care;
  And it's little I'd mind the fuss they'll make,
  Huddled dead in a ditch somewhere.

  "Is something the matter, dear," she said, 
  "That you sit at your work so silently?" 
  "No, mother, no, 'twas a knot in my thread. 
  There goes the kettle, I'll make the tea."