There’s a change of luck at the turn of the road,
A pot of gold, a lighter load,
The end of parting, and tears
and pain,
With sunshine breaking through
clouds and rain—
At the turn of the road.
At the bend of the road lurk
violets sweet,
A green-sward path for the
weary feet,
A new life started—a journey’s
end,
And the trusting love of a
dear, dear friend—
At the turn of the road.
Norma Phillips Muir
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