Page:Songs from Vagabondia (1897).djvu/20

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A vagrant’s morning wide and blue,In early fall, when the wind walks, too
A shadowy highway cool and brown,Alluring up and enticing down
From rippled water to dappled swamp,From purple glory to scarlet pomp;
The outward eye, the quiet will,And the striding heart from hill to hill;
The tempter apple over the fence;The cobweb bloom on the yellow quince;
The palish asters along the wood,—A lyric touch of the solitude;
An open hand, an easy shoe,And a hope to make the day go through,—
Another to sleep with, and a thirdTo wake me up at the voice of a bird;
The resonant far-listening morn,And the hoarse whisper of the corn;
The crickets mourning their comrades lost,In the night’s retreat from the gathering frost;
(Or is it their slogan, plaintive and shrill,As they beat on their corselets, valiant still?)
A hunger fit for the kings of the sea,And a loaf of bread for Dickon and me;

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