The Red Toll of the Road

Men paid the toll in metal coins
In leisured days, long gone;
By rutted roads they urged their loads,
Nor cared that time sped on.
But now, when smooth, unyielding paths
Replace the highway mud,
Men count it crime to squander time,
And pay the toll in blood.

Red toll! Road toll!
A score shall speed away;
But these who weep by the grim toll keep
In the red, red coin must pay.
Scant is our heed, for our god is speed,
And urgency our goad.
Who pays? Who pays on the thronged highways
The red toll of the road?

Men loathe the arch-destroyer, War,
And a greedy god is he;
Yet his price in flesh counts rarely more
Than the red Toll-keeper’s fee.
Year in, year out, he lurks about
Where e’er man wandereth
By town or field, and meekly yield
His price in pain and death.

Red toll! Road toll!
Who counts the cost a waste?
Rub out the stain! Shout out the pain!
For our only need is haste.
By the grisly gate the gatherers wait
Where the red coin long has flowed.
Haste on your way! Who next to pay
The red toll of the road?