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+Project Gutenberg's Songs from Vagabondia, by Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Songs from Vagabondia
+
+Author: Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey
+
+Release Date: April 23, 2006 [EBook #18238]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Thierry Alberto, Robert Ledger and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
+file was produced from images generously made available
+by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions
+(www.canadiana.org))
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA
+
+BLISS CARMAN
+RICHARD HOVEY
+
+DESIGNS BY
+TOM B METEYARD
+
+
+BOSTON COPELAND AND DAY
+LONDON
+ELKIN MATHEWS AND JOHN LANE
+
+MDCCCXCIV
+
+_Copyright, 1894._
+BY BLISS CARMAN AND RICHARD HOVEY.
+
+_To H.F.W., for debts of love unpaid,
+Her boys inscribe this book that they have made._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+VAGABONDIA
+A WAIF
+THE JOYS OF THE ROAD
+EVENING ON THE POTOMAC
+SPRING SONG
+THE FAUN
+A ROVER'S SONG
+DOWN THE SONGO
+THE WANDER-LOVERS
+DISCOVERY
+A MORE ANCIENT MARINER
+A SONG BY THE SHORE
+A HILL SONG
+AT SEA
+ISABEL
+CONTEMPORARIES
+THE TWO BOBBIES
+A TOAST
+THE KAVANAGH
+A CAPTAIN OF THE PRESS-GANG
+THE BUCCANEERS
+THE WAR-SONG OF GAMELBAR
+THE OUTLAW
+THE KING'S SON
+LAURANA'S SONG
+LAUNA DEE
+THE MENDICANTS
+THE MARCHING MORROWS
+IN THE WORKSHOP
+THE MOTE
+IN THE HOUSE OF IDIEDAILY
+RESIGNATION
+COMRADES
+
+
+
+
+VAGABONDIA.
+
+
+Off with the fetters
+That chafe and restrain!
+Off with the chain!
+Here Art and Letters,
+Music and wine,
+And Myrtle and Wanda,
+The winsome witches,
+Blithely combine.
+Here are true riches,
+Here is Golconda,
+Here are the Indies,
+Here we are free--
+Free as the wind is,
+Free, as the sea.
+Free!
+
+Houp-la!
+
+What have we
+To do with the way
+Of the Pharisee?
+We go or we stay
+At our own sweet will;
+We think as we say,
+And we say or keep still
+At our own sweet will,
+At our own sweet will.
+
+Here we are free
+To be good or bad,
+Sane or mad,
+Merry or grim
+As the mood may be,--
+Free as the whim
+Of a spook on a spree,--
+Free to be oddities,
+Not mere commodities,
+Stupid and salable,
+Wholly available,
+Ranged upon shelves;
+Each with his puny form
+In the same uniform,
+Cramped and disabled;
+We are not labelled,
+We are ourselves.
+
+Here is the real,
+Here the ideal;
+Laughable hardship
+Met and forgot,
+Glory of bardship--
+World's bloom and world's blot;
+The shock and the jostle,
+The mock and the push,
+But hearts like the throstle
+A-joy in the bush;
+Wits that would merrily
+Laugh away wrong,
+Throats that would verily
+Melt Hell in Song.
+
+What though the dimes be
+Elusive as rhymes be,
+And Bessie, with finger
+Uplifted, is warning
+That breakfast next morning
+(A subject she's scorning)
+Is mighty uncertain!
+
+What care we? Linger
+A moment to kiss--
+No time's amiss
+To a vagabond's ardor--
+Thee finish the larder
+And pull down the curtain.
+
+Unless ere the kiss come,
+Black Richard or Bliss come,
+Or Tom with a flagon,
+Or Karl with a jag on--
+Then up and after
+The joy of the night
+With the hounds of laughter
+To follow the flight
+Of the fox-foot hours
+That double and run
+Through brakes and bowers
+Of folly and fun.
+
+With the comrade heart
+For a moment's play,
+And the comrade heart
+For a heavier day,
+And the comrade heart
+Forever and aye.
+
+For the joy of wine
+Is not for long;
+And the joy of song
+Is a dream of shine;
+But the comrade heart
+Shall outlast art
+And a woman's love
+The fame thereof.
+
+But wine for a sign
+Of the love we bring!
+And song for an oath
+That Love is king!
+And both, and both
+For his worshipping!
+
+Then up and away
+Till the break of day,
+With a heart that's merry,
+And a Tom-and-Jerry,
+And a derry-down-derry--
+What's that you say.
+You highly respectable
+Buyers and sellers?
+We should be decenter?
+Not as we please inter
+Custom, frugality,
+Use and morality
+In the delectable
+Depths of wine-cellars?
+
+Midnights of revel,
+And noondays of song!
+Is it so wrong?
+Go to the Devil!
+
+I tell you that we,
+While you are smirking
+And lying and shirking
+life's duty of duties,
+Honest sincerity,
+We are in verity
+Free!
+Free to rejoice
+In blisses and beauties!
+Free as the voice
+Of the wind as it passes!
+Free as the bird
+In the weft of the grasses!
+Free as the word
+Of the sun to the sea--
+Free!
+
+
+
+
+A WAIF.
+
+
+Do you know what it is to be vagrant born?
+A waif is only a waif. And so,
+For another idle hour I sit,
+In large content while the fire burns low.
+
+I gossip here to my crony heart
+Of the day just over, and count it one
+Of the royal elemental days,
+Though its dreams were few and its deeds were none.
+
+Outside, the winter; inside, the warmth
+And a sweet oblivion of turmoil. Why?
+All for a gentle girlish hand
+With its warm and lingering good-bye.
+
+
+
+
+THE JOYS OF THE ROAD.
+
+
+Now the joys of the road are chiefly these:
+A crimson touch on the hard-wood trees;
+
+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 third
+To 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;
+
+A thirst like that of the Thirsty Sword,
+And a jug of cider on the board;
+
+An idle noon, a bubbling spring,
+The sea in the pine-tops murmuring;
+
+A scrap of gossip at the ferry;
+A comrade neither glum nor merry,
+
+Asking nothing, revealing naught,
+But minting his words from a fund of thought,
+
+A keeper of silence eloquent,
+Needy, yet royally well content,
+
+Of the mettled breed, yet abhorring strife,
+And full of the mellow juice of life;
+
+A taster of wine, with an eye for a maid,
+Never too bold, and never afraid,
+
+Never heart-whole, never heart-sick,
+(These are the things I worship in Dick)
+
+No fidget and no reformer, just
+A calm observer of ought and must,
+
+A lover of books, but a reader of man,
+No cynic and no charlatan,
+
+Who never defers and never demands,
+But, smiling, takes the world in his hands,--
+
+Seeing it good as when God first saw
+And gave it the weight of his will for law.
+
+And O the joy that is never won,
+But follows and follows the journeying sun,
+
+By marsh and tide, by meadow and stream,
+A will-o'-the-wind, a light-o'-dream,
+
+Delusion afar, delight anear,
+From morrow to morrow, from year to year,
+
+A jack-o'-lantern, a fairy fire,
+A dare, a bliss, and a desire!
+
+The racy smell of the forest loam,
+When the stealthy, sad-heart leaves go home;
+
+(O leaves, O leaves, I am one with you,
+Of the mould and the sun and the wind and the dew!)
+
+The broad gold wake of the afternoon;
+The silent fleck of the cold new moon;
+
+The sound of the hollow sea's release
+From stormy tumult to starry peace;
+
+With only another league to wend;
+And two brown arms at the journey's end!
+
+These are the joys of the open road--
+For him who travels without a load.
+
+
+
+
+EVENING ON THE POTOMAC.
+
+
+The fervid breath of our flushed Southern May
+Is sweet upon the city's throat and lips,
+As a lover's whose tired arm slips
+Listlessly over the shoulder of a queen.
+
+Far away
+The river melts in the unseen.
+Oh, beautiful Girl-City, how she dips
+Her feet in the stream
+With a touch that is half a kiss and half a dream!
+Her face is very fair,
+With flowers for smiles and sunlight in her hair.
+
+My westland flower-town, how serene she is!
+Here on this hill from which I look at her,
+All is still as if a worshipper
+Left at some shrine his offering.
+
+Soft winds kiss
+My cheek with a slow lingering.
+A luring whisper where the laurels stir
+Wiles my heart back to woodland-ward again.
+
+But lo,
+Across the sky the sunset couriers run,
+And I remain
+To watch the imperial pageant of the Sun
+Mock me, an impotent Cortez here below,
+With splendors of its vaster Mexico.
+
+O Eldorado of the templed clouds!
+O golden city of the western sky!
+Not like the Spaniard would I storm thy gates;
+Not like the babe stretch chubby hands and cry
+
+To have thee for a toy; but far from crowds,
+Like my Faun brother in the ferny glen,
+Peer from the wood's edge while thy glory waits,
+And in the darkening thickets plunge again.
+
+
+
+
+SPRING SONG.
+
+
+Make me over, mother April,
+When the sap begins to stir!
+When thy flowery hand delivers
+All the mountain-prisoned rivers,
+And thy great heart beats and quivers,
+To revive the days that were,
+Make me over, mother April,
+When the sap begins to stir!
+
+Take my dust and all my dreaming,
+Count my heart-beats one by one,
+Send them where the winters perish;
+Then some golden noon recherish
+And restore them in the sun,
+Flower and scent and dust and dreaming,
+With their heart-beats every one!
+
+Set me in the urge and tide-drift
+Of the streaming hosts a-wing!
+Breast of scarlet, throat of yellow,
+Raucous challenge, wooings mellow--
+Every migrant is my fellow,
+Making northward with the spring.
+Loose me in the urge and tide-drift
+Of the streaming hosts a-wing!
+
+Shrilling pipe or fluting whistle,
+In the valleys come again;
+Fife of frog and call of tree-toad,
+All my brothers, five or three-toed,
+With their revel no more vetoed,
+Making music in the rain;
+Shrilling pipe or fluting whistle,
+In the valleys come again.
+
+Make me of thy seed to-morrow,
+When the sap begins to stir!
+Tawny light-foot, sleepy bruin,
+Bright-eyes in the orchard ruin,
+Gnarl the good life goes askew in,
+Whiskey-jack, or tanager,--
+Make me anything to-morrow,
+When the sap begins to stir!
+
+Make me even (How do I know?)
+Like my friend the gargoyle there;
+It may be the heart within him
+Swells that doltish hands should pin him
+Fixed forever in mid-air.
+Make me even sport for swallows,
+Like the soaring gargoyle there!
+
+Give me the old clue to follow,
+Through the labyrinth of night!
+Clod of clay with heart of fire,
+Things that burrow and aspire,
+With the vanishing desire,
+For the perishing delight,--
+Only the old clue to follow,
+Through the labyrinth of night!
+
+Make me over, mother April,
+When the sap begins to stir!
+Fashion me from swamp or meadow,
+Garden plot or ferny shadow,
+Hyacinth or humble burr!
+Make me over, mother April,
+When the sap begins to stir!
+
+Let me hear the far, low summons,
+When the silver winds return;
+Rills that run and streams that stammer,
+Goldenwing with his loud hammer,
+Icy brooks that brawl and clamor,
+Where the Indian willows burn;
+Let me hearken to the calling,
+When the silver winds return,
+
+Till recurring and recurring,
+Long since wandered and come back,
+Like a whim of Grieg's or Gounod's,
+This same self, bird, bud, or Bluenose,
+Some day I may capture (Who knows?)
+Just the one last joy I lack,
+Waking to the far new summons,
+When the old spring winds come back.
+
+For I have no choice of being,
+When the sap begins to climb,--
+Strong insistence, sweet intrusion,
+Vasts and verges of illusion,--
+So I win, to time's confusion,
+The one perfect pearl of time,
+Joy and joy and joy forever,
+Till the sap forgets to climb!
+
+Make me over in the morning
+From the rag-bag of the world!
+Scraps of dream and duds of daring,
+Home-brought stuff from far sea-faring,
+Faded colors once so flaring,
+Shreds of banners long since furled!
+Hues of ash and glints of glory,
+In the rag-bag of the world!
+
+Let me taste the old immortal
+Indolence of life once more;
+Not recalling nor foreseeing,
+Let the great slow joys of being
+Well my heart through as of yore!
+Let me taste the old immortal
+Indolence of life once more!
+
+Give me the old drink for rapture,
+The delirium to drain,
+All my fellows drank in plenty
+At the Three Score Inns and Twenty
+From the mountains to the main!
+Give me the old drink for rapture,
+The delirium to drain!
+
+Only make me over, April,
+When the sap begins to stir!
+Make me man or make me woman,
+Make me oaf or ape or human,
+Cup of flower or cone of fir;
+Make me anything but neuter
+When the sap begins to stir!
+
+
+
+
+THE FAUN. A FRAGMENT.
+
+
+I will go out to grass with that old King,
+For I am weary of clothes and cooks.
+I long to lie along the banks of brooks,
+And watch the boughs above me sway and swing.
+Come, I will pluck off custom's livery,
+Nor longer be a lackey to old Time.
+Time shall serve me, and at my feet shall fling
+The spoil of listless minutes. I shall climb
+The wild trees for my food, and run
+Through dale and upland as a fox runs free,
+Laugh for cool joy and sleep i' the warm sun,
+And men will call me mad, like that old King.
+
+For I am woodland-natured, and have made
+Dryads my bedfellows,
+And I have played
+With the sleek Naiads in the splash of pools
+And made a mock of gowned and trousered fools.
+Helen, none knows
+Better than thou how like a Faun I strayed.
+And I am half Faun now, and my heart goes
+Out to the forest and the crack of twigs,
+The drip of wet leaves and the low soft laughter
+Of brooks that chuckle o'er old mossy jests
+And say them over to themselves, the nests
+Of squirrels and the holes the chipmunk digs,
+Where through the branches the slant rays
+Dapple with sunlight the leaf-matted ground,
+And the wind comes with blown vesture rustling after,
+And through the woven lattice of crisp sound
+A bird's song lightens like a maiden's face.
+
+O wildwood Helen, let them strive and fret,
+Those goggled men with their dissecting-knives!
+
+Let them in charnel-houses pass their lives
+And seek in death life's secret! And let
+Those hard-faced worldlings prematurely old
+Gnaw their thin lips with vain desire to get
+Portia's fair fame or Lesbia's carcanet,
+Or crown of Caesar or Catullus,
+Apicius' lampreys or Crassus' gold!
+For these consider many things--but yet
+By land nor sea
+They shall not find the way to Arcady,
+The old home of the awful heart-dear Mother,
+Whereto child-dreams and long rememberings lull us,
+Far from the cares that overlay and smother
+The memories of old woodland out-door mirth
+In the dim first life-burst centuries ago,
+The sense of the freedom and nearness of Earth--
+Nay, this they shall not know;
+For who goes thither,
+Leaves all the cark and clutch of his soul behind,
+The doves defiled and the serpents shrined,
+The hates that wax and the hopes that wither;
+Nor does he journey, seeking where it be,
+But wakes and finds himself in Arcady.
+
+Hist! there's a stir in the brush.
+Was it a face through the leaves?
+Back of the laurels a skurry and rush
+Hillward, then silence except for the thrush
+That throws one song from the dark of the bush
+And is gone; and I plunge in the wood, and the swift soul cleaves
+Through the swirl and the flow of the leaves,
+As a swimmer stands with his white limbs bare to the sun
+For the space that a breath is held, and drops in the sea;
+And the undulant woodland folds round me, intimate, fluctuant, free,
+Like the clasp and the cling of waters,
+          and the reach and the effort is done,--
+There is only the glory of living, exultant to be.
+
+O goodly damp smell of the ground!
+O rough sweet bark of the trees!
+O clear sharp cracklings of sound!
+O life that's a-thrill and a-bound
+With the vigor of boyhood and morning, and the noontide's rapture of ease!
+Was there ever a weary heart in the world?
+A lag in the body's urge or a flag of the spirit's wings?
+Did a man's heart ever break
+For a lost hope's sake?
+For here there is lilt in the quiet and calm in the quiver of things.
+Ay, this old oak, gray-grown and knurled,
+Solemn and sturdy and big,
+Is as young of heart, as alert and elate in his rest,
+As the nuthatch there that clings to the tip of the twig
+And scolds at the wind that it buffets too rudely its nest.
+
+Oh, what is it breathes in the air?
+Oh, what is it touches my cheek?
+There's a sense of a presence that lurks in the branches.
+But where?
+Is it far, is it far to seek?
+
+
+
+
+A ROVER'S SONG.
+
+
+Snowdrift of the mountains,
+Spindrift of the sea,
+We who down the border
+Rove from gloom to glee,--
+
+Snowdrift of the mountains,
+Spindrift of the sea,
+There be no such gypsies
+Over earth as we.
+
+Snowdrift of the mountains,
+Spindrift of the sea,
+Let us part the treasure
+Of the world in three.
+
+Snowdrift of the mountains,
+Spindrift of the sea,
+You shall keep your kingdoms;
+Joscelyn for me!
+
+
+
+
+DOWN THE SONGO.
+
+
+I.
+
+Floating!
+Floating--and all the stillness waits
+And listens at the ivory gates,
+Full of a dim uncertain presage
+Of some strange, undelivered message.
+There is no sound save from the bush
+The alto of the shy wood-thrush,
+And ever and anon the dip
+Of a lazy oar.
+
+The rhythmic drowsiness keeps time
+To hazy subtleties of rhyme
+That seem to slip
+Through the lulled soul to seek the sleepy shore.
+The idle clouds go floating by;
+Above us sky, beneath us sky;
+The sun shines on us as we lie
+Floating.
+
+It is a dream.
+It is a dream, my love; see how
+The ripples quiver at the prow,
+And all the long reflections shake
+Unsteadily beneath the lake.
+The mists about the uplands show
+Dim violet towers that come and go.
+Phantasmagoric palaces
+Rise trembling there,
+As though one breath of waking weather
+Would crash their airy walls together
+With sudden stress,
+While silent detonations shook the air--
+Vast fabrics toppling to the ground
+And vanishing without a sound.
+Ah, love, these are not what we deem;
+It is a dream.
+
+
+II.
+
+Let us dream on, then,----dream and die
+Ere the dream pass.
+Let us for once, like idle flowers,
+Let slip the unregarded hours,
+Like the wise flowers that lie
+Unfretted by a feeble thought,
+Future and past alike forgot,
+Drinking the dew contentedly
+In the cool grass.
+
+
+III.
+
+Look yonder where the clouds float; could we glide
+As they, across the sky's blue shoreless tide,
+What better were it than to dream
+Across yon lake and into this still stream?
+
+
+IV.
+
+Trees and a glimpse of sky!
+And the slow river, quiet as a pool!
+And thou and I--and thou and I--
+Kiss me! How soft the air is and how cool!
+
+
+
+
+THE WANDER-LOVERS.
+
+
+Down the world with Marna!
+That's the life for me!
+Wandering with the wandering wind,
+Vagabond and unconfined!
+Roving with the roving rain
+Its unboundaried domain!
+Kith and kin of wander-kind,
+Children of the sea!
+
+Petrels of the sea-drift!
+Swallows of the lea!
+Arabs of the whole wide girth
+Of the wind-encircled earth!
+In all climes we pitch our tents,
+Cronies of the elements,
+With the secret lords of birth
+Intimate and free.
+
+All the seaboard knows us
+From Fundy to the Keys;
+Every bend and every creek
+Of abundant Chesapeake;
+Ardise hills and Newport coves
+And the far-off orange groves,
+Where Floridian oceans break,
+Tropic tiger seas.
+
+Down the world with Marna,
+Tarrying there and here!
+Just as much at home in Spain
+As in Tangier or Touraine!
+Shakespeare's Avon knows us well,
+And the crags of Neufchâtel;
+And the ancient Nile is fain
+Of our coming near.
+
+Down the world with Marna,
+Daughter of the air!
+Marna of the subtle grace,
+And the vision in her face!
+Moving in the measures trod
+By the angels before God!
+With her sky-blue eyes amaze
+And her sea-blue hair!
+
+Marna with the trees' life
+In her veins a-stir!
+Marna of the aspen heart
+Where the sudden quivers start!
+Quick-responsive, subtle, wild!
+Artless as an artless child,
+Spite of all her reach of art!
+Oh, to roam with her!
+
+Marna with the wind's will,
+Daughter of the sea!
+Marna of the quick disdain,
+Starting at the dream of stain!
+At a smile with love aglow,
+At a frown a statued woe,
+Standing pinnacled in pain
+Till a kiss sets free!
+
+Down the world with Marna,
+Daughter of the fire!
+Marna of the deathless hope,
+Still alert to win new scope
+Where the wings of life may spread
+For a flight unhazarded!
+Dreaming of the speech to cope
+With the heart's desire!
+
+Marna of the far quest
+After the divine!
+Striving ever for some goal
+Past the blunder-god's control!
+Dreaming of potential years
+When no day shall dawn in fears!
+That's the Marna of my soul,
+Wander-bride of mine!
+
+
+
+
+DISCOVERY.
+
+
+When the bugler morn shall wind his horn,
+And we wake to the wild to be,
+Shall we open our eyes on the selfsame skies
+And stare at the selfsame sea?
+O new, new day! though you bring no stay
+To the strain of the sameness grim,
+You are new, new, new--new through and through,
+And strange as a lawless dream.
+
+Will the driftwood float by the lonely boat
+And our prisoner hearts unbar,
+As it tells of the strand of an unseen land
+That lies not far, not far?
+O new, new hope! O sweep and scope
+Of the glad, unlying sea!
+You are new, new, new--with the promise true
+Of the dreamland isles to be.
+
+Will the land-birds fly across the sky,
+Though the land is not to see?
+Have they dipped and passed in the sea-line vast?
+Have we left the land a-lee?
+O new despair! I though the hopeless air
+Grow foul with the calm and grieves,
+You are new, new, new--and we cleave to you
+As a soul to its freedom cleaves.
+
+Does the falling night hide fiends to fight
+And phantoms to affray?
+What demons lurk in the grisly mirk,
+As the night-watch waits for day?
+O strange new gloom! we await the doom,
+And what doom none may deem;
+But it's new, new, new--and we'll sail it through,
+While the mocking sea-gulls scream.
+
+A light, a light, in the dead of night,
+That lifts and sinks in the waves!
+What folk are they who have kindled its ray,--
+Men or the ghouls of graves?
+O new, new fear! near, near and near,
+And you bear us weal or woe!
+But you're new, new, new--so a cheer for you!
+And onward--friend or foe!
+
+Shall the lookout call from the foretop tall,
+"Land, land!" with a maddened scream,
+And the crew in glee from the taffrail see
+Where the island palm-trees dream?
+New heart, new eyes! For the morning skies
+Are a-chant with their green and gold!
+New, new, new, new--new through and through!
+New, new till the dawn is old!
+
+
+
+
+A MORE ANCIENT MARINER.
+
+
+The swarthy bee is a buccaneer,
+A burly velveted rover,
+Who loves the booming wind in his ear
+As he sails the seas of clover.
+
+A waif of the goblin pirate crew,
+With not a soul to deplore him,
+He steers for the open verge of blue
+With the filmy world before him.
+
+His flimsy sails abroad on the wind
+Are shivered with fairy thunder;
+On a line that sings to the light of his wings
+He makes for the lands of wonder.
+
+He harries the ports of the Hollyhocks,
+And levies on poor Sweetbrier;
+He drinks the whitest wine of Phlox,
+And the Rose is his desire.
+
+He hangs in the Willows a night and a day;
+He rifles the Buckwheat patches;
+Then battens his store of pelf galore
+Under the tautest hatches.
+
+He woos the Poppy and weds the Peach,
+Inveigles Daffodilly,
+And then like a tramp abandons each
+For the gorgeous Canada Lily.
+
+There's not a soul in the garden world
+But wishes the day were shorter,
+When Mariner B. puts out to sea
+With the wind in the proper quarter.
+
+Or, so they say! But I have my doubts;
+For the flowers are only human,
+And the valor and gold of a vagrant bold
+Were always dear to woman.
+
+He dares to boast, along the coast,
+The beauty of Highland Heather,--
+How he and she, with night on the sea,
+Lay out on the hills together.
+
+He pilfers from every port of the wind,
+From April to golden autumn;
+But the thieving ways of his mortal days
+Are those his mother taught him.
+
+His morals are mixed, but his will is fixed;
+He prospers after his kind,
+And follows an instinct, compass-sure,
+The philosophers call blind.
+
+And that is why, when he comes to die,
+He'll have an easier sentence
+Than some one I know who thinks just so,
+And then leaves room for repentance.
+
+He never could box the compass round;
+He doesn't know port from starboard;
+But he knows the gates of the Sundown Straits,
+Where the choicest goods are harbored.
+
+He never could see the Rule of Three,
+But he knows a rule of thumb
+Better than Euclid's, better than yours,
+Or the teachers' yet to come.
+
+He knows the smell of the hydromel
+As if two and two were five;
+And hides it away for a year and a day
+In his own hexagonal hive.
+
+Out in the day, hap-hazard, alone,
+Booms the old vagrant hummer,
+With only his whim to pilot him
+Through the splendid vast of summer.
+
+He steers and steers on the slant of the gale,
+Like the fiend or Vanderdecken;
+And there's never an unknown course to sail
+But his crazy log can reckon.
+
+He drones along with his rough sea-song
+And the throat of a salty tar,
+This devil-may-care, till he makes his lair
+By the light of a yellow star.
+
+He looks like a gentleman, lives like a lord,
+And works like a Trojan hero;
+Then loafs all winter upon his hoard,
+With the mercury at zero.
+
+
+
+
+A SONG BY THE SHORE.
+
+
+"Lose and love" is love's first art;
+So it was with thee and me,
+For I first beheld thy heart
+On the night I last saw thee.
+Pine-woods and mysteries!
+Sea-sands and sorrows!
+Hearts fluttered by a breeze
+That bodes dark morrows, morrows,--
+Bodes dark morrows!
+
+Moonlight in sweet overflow
+Poured upon the earth and sea!
+Lovelight with intenser glow
+In the deeps of thee and me!
+Clasped hands and silences!
+Hearts faint and throbbing!
+The weak wind sighing in the trees!
+The strong surf sobbing, sobbing,--
+The strong surf sobbing!
+
+
+
+
+A HILL SONG.
+
+
+Hills where once my love and I
+Let the hours go laughing by!
+All your woods and dales are sad,--
+You have lost your Oread.
+Falling leaves! Silent woodlands!
+Half your loveliness is fled.
+Golden-rod, wither now!
+Winter winds, come hither now!
+All the summer joy is dead.
+
+There's a sense of something gone
+In the grass I linger on.
+There's an under-voice that grieves
+In the rustling of the leaves.
+Pine-clad peaks! Rushing waters!
+Glens where we were once so glad!
+There's a light passed from you,
+There's a joy outcast from you,--
+You have lost your Oread.
+
+
+
+
+AT SEA.
+
+
+As a brave man faces the foe,
+Alone against hundreds, and sees Death grin in his teeth,
+But, shutting his lips, fights on to the end
+Without speech, without hope, without flinching,--
+So, silently, grimly, the steamer
+Lurches ahead through the night.
+
+A beacon-light far off,
+Twinkling across the waves like a star!
+But no star in the dark overhead!
+The splash of waters at the prow, and the evil light
+Of the death-fires flitting like will-o'-the-wisps beneath! And beyond
+Silence and night!
+
+I sit by the taffrail,
+Alone in the dark and the blown cold mist and the spray,
+Feeling myself swept on irresistibly,
+Sunk in the night and the sea, and made one with their footfall-less onrush,
+Letting myself be borne like a spar adrift
+Helplessly into the night.
+
+Without fear, without wish,
+Insensate save of a dull, crushed ache in my heart,
+Careless whither the steamer is going,
+Conscious only as in a dream of the wet and the dark
+And of a form that looms and fades indistinctly
+Everywhere out of the night.
+
+O love, how came I here?
+Shall I wake at thy side and smile at my dream?
+The dream that grips me so hard that I cannot wake nor stir!
+O love! O my own love, found but to be lost!
+My soul sends over the waters a wild inarticulate cry,
+Like a gull's scream heard in the night.
+
+The mist creeps closer. The beacon
+Vanishes astern. The sea's monotonous noises
+Lapse through the drizzle with a listless, subsiding cadence.
+And thou, O love, and the sea throb on in my brain together,
+While the steamer plunges along,
+Butting its way through the night.
+
+
+
+
+ISABEL.
+
+
+In her body's perfect sweet
+Suppleness and languor meet,--
+Arms that move like lapsing billows,
+Breasts that Love would make his pillows,
+Eyes where vision melts in bliss,
+Lips that ripen to a kiss.
+
+
+
+
+CONTEMPORARIES.
+
+
+"A barbered woman's man,"--yes, so
+He seemed to me a twelvemonth since;
+And so he may be--let it go--
+Admit his flaws--we need not wince
+To find our noblest not all great.
+What of it? He is still the prince,
+And we the pages of his state.
+
+The world applauds his words; his fame
+Is noised wherever knowledge be;
+Even the trader hears his name,
+As one far inland hears the sea;
+The lady quotes him to the beau
+Across a cup of Russian tea;
+They know him and they do not know.
+
+I know him. In the nascent years
+Men's eyes shall see him as one crowned;
+His voice shall gather in their ears
+With each new age prophetic sound;
+And you and I and all the rest,
+Whose brows to-day are laurel-bound,
+Shall be but plumes upon his crest.
+
+A year ago this man was poor,--
+This Alfred whom the nations praise;
+He stood a beggar at my door
+For one mere word to help him raise
+From fainting limbs and shoulders bent
+The burden of the weary days;
+And I withheld it--and he went.
+
+I knew him then, as I know now,
+Our largest heart, our loftiest mind;
+Yet for the curls upon his brow
+And for his lisp, I could not find
+The helping word, the cheering touch.
+Ah, to be just, as well as kind,--
+It costs so little and so much!
+
+It seemed unmanly in my sight
+That he, whose spirit was so strong
+To lead the blind world to the light,
+Should look so like the mincing throng
+Who advertise the tailor's art.
+It angered me--I did him wrong--
+I grudged my groat and shut my heart.
+
+I might have been the prophet's friend,
+Helped him who is to help the world!
+Now, when the striving is at end,
+The reek-stained battle-banners furled,
+And the age hears its muster-call,
+Then I, because his hair was curled,
+I shall have lost my chance--that's all.
+
+
+
+
+THE TWO BOBBIES.
+
+
+Bobbie Burns and Bobbie Browning,
+They're the boys I'd like to see.
+Though I'm not the boy for Bobbie,
+Bobbie is the boy for me!
+
+Bobbie Browning was the good boy;
+Turned the language inside out,
+Wrote his plays and had his days,
+Died--and held his peace, no doubt.
+
+Poor North Bobbie was the bad boy,--
+Bad, bad, bad, bad Bobbie Burns!
+Loved and made the world his lover,
+Kissed and barleycomed by turns.
+
+London's dweller, child of wisdom,
+Kept his counsel, took his toll;
+Ayrshire's vagrant paid the piper,
+Lost the game--God save his soul!
+
+Bobbie Burns and Bobbie Browning,
+What's the difference, you see?
+Bob the lover, Bob the lawyer;
+Bobbie is the boy for me!
+
+
+
+
+A TOAST.
+
+
+Here's a health to thee, Roberts,
+And here's a health to me;
+And here's to all the pretty girls
+From Denver to the sea!
+
+Here's to mine and here's to thine!
+Now's the time to clink it!
+Here's a flagon of old wine,
+And here are we to drink it.
+
+Wine that maketh glad the heart
+Of the bully boy!
+Here's the toast that we love most,
+"Love and song and joy!"
+
+Song that is the flower of love,
+And joy that is the fruit!
+Here's the love of woman, lad,
+And here's our love to boot!
+
+You and I are far too wise
+Not to fill our glasses.
+Here's to me and here's to thee,
+And here's to all the lasses!
+
+
+
+
+THE KAVANAGH.
+
+
+A stone jug and a pewter mug,
+And a table set for three!
+A jug and a mug at every place,
+And a biscuit or two with Brie!
+Three stone jugs of Cruiskeen Lawn,
+And a cheese like crusted foam!
+The Kavanagh receives to-night!
+McMurrough is at home!
+
+We three and the barley-bree!
+And a health to the one away,
+Who drifts down careless Italy,
+God's wanderer and estray!
+For friends are more than Arno's store
+Of garnered charm, and he
+Were blither with us here the night
+Than Titian bids him be.
+
+Throw ope the window to the stars,
+And let the warm night in!
+Who knows what revelry in Mars
+May rhyme with rouse akin?
+Fill up and drain the loving cup
+And leave no drop to waste!
+The moon looks in to see what's up--
+Begad, she'd like a taste!
+
+What odds if Leinster's kingly roll
+Be now an idle thing?
+The world is his who takes his toll,
+A vagrant or a king.
+What though the crown be melted down,
+And the heir a gypsy roam?
+The Kavanagh receives to-night!
+McMurrough is at home!
+
+We three and the barley-bree!
+And the moonlight on the floor!
+Who were a man to do with less?
+What emperor has more?
+Three stone jugs of Cruiskeen Lawn,
+And three stout hearts to drain
+A slanter to the truth in the heart of youth
+And the joy of the love of men.
+
+
+
+
+A CAPTAIN OF THE PRESS-GANG.
+
+
+Shipmate, leave the ghostly shadows,
+Where thy boon companions throng!
+We will put to sea together
+Through the twilight with a song.
+
+Leering closer, rank and girding,
+In this Black Port where we bide,
+Reel a thousand flaring faces;
+But escape is on the tide.
+
+Let the tap-rooms of the city
+Reek till the red dawn comes round.
+There is better wine in plenty
+On the cruise where we are bound.
+
+I've aboard a hundred messmates
+Better than these 'long-shore knaves.
+There is wreckage on the shallows;
+It's the open sea that saves.
+
+Hark, lad, dost not hear it calling?
+That's the voice thy father knew,
+When he took the King's good cutlass
+In his grip, and fought it through.
+
+Who would palter at press-money
+When he heard that sea-cry vast?
+That's the call makes lords of lubbers,
+When they ship before the mast.
+
+Let thy cronies of the tavern
+Keep their kisses bought with gold;
+On the high seas there are regions
+Where the heart is never old,
+
+Where the great winds every morning
+Sweep the sea-floor clean and white,
+And upon the steel-blue arches
+Burnish the great stars of night;
+
+There the open hand will lose not,
+Nor the loosened tongue betray.
+Signed, and with our sailing orders,
+We will clear before the day;
+
+On the shining yards of heaven
+See a wider dawn unfurled....
+The eternal slaves of beauty
+Are the masters of the world.
+
+
+
+
+THE BUCCANEERS.
+
+
+Oh, not for us the easy mirth
+Of men that never roam!
+The crackling of the narrow hearth,
+The cabined joys of home!
+Keep your tame, regulated glee,
+O pale protected State!
+Our dwelling-place is on the sea,
+Our joy the joy of Fate!
+
+No long caresses give us ease,
+No lazy languors warm,
+We seize our mates as the sea-gulls seize,
+And leave them to the storm.
+But in the bridal halls of gloom
+The couch is stern and strait;
+For us the marriage rite of Doom,
+The nuptial joy of Fate.
+
+Wine for the weaklings of the town,
+Their lucky toasts to drain!
+Our skoal for them whose star goes down,
+Our drink the drink of men!
+No Bacchic ivy for our brows!
+Like vikings, we await
+The grim, ungarlanded carouse
+We keep to-night with Fate.
+
+Ho, gamesters of the pampered court!
+What stakes are those at strife?
+Your thousands are but paltry sport
+To them that play for life.
+You risk doubloons, and hold your breath.
+Win groats, and wax elate;
+But we throw loaded dice with Death,
+And call the turn on Fate.
+
+The kings of earth are crowned with care,
+Their poets wail and sigh;
+Our music is to do and dare,
+Our empire is to die.
+Against the storm we fling our glee
+And shout, till Time abate
+The exultation of the sea,
+The fearful joy of Fate.
+
+
+
+
+THE WAR-SONG OF GAMELBAR.
+
+
+Bowmen, shout for Gamelbar!
+Winds, unthrottle the wolves of war!
+Heave a breath
+And dare a death
+For the doom of Gamelbar!
+Wealth for Gamel,
+Wine for Gamel,
+Crimson wine for Gamelbar!
+
+CHORUS:--Oh, sleep for a knave,
+         With his sins in the sod!
+         And death for the brave,
+         With his glory up to God!
+         And joy for the girl,
+         And ease for the churl!
+         But the great game of war
+         For our lord Gamelbar,
+         Gamelbar!
+
+Spearmen, shout for Gamelbar,
+With his Saxon thirty score!
+Heave a sword
+For our overlord,
+Lord of warriors, Gamelbar!
+Life for Gamel,
+Love for Gamel,
+Lady-loves for Gamelbar!
+
+Horsemen, shout for Gamelbar!
+Swim the ford and climb the scaur!
+Heave a hand
+For the maiden land,
+The maiden land of Gamelbar!
+Glory for Gamel,
+Gold for Gamel,
+Yellow gold for Gamelbar!
+
+Armorers for Gamelbar,
+Rivet and forge and fear no scar!
+Heave a hammer
+With anvil clamor,
+To weld and brace for Gamelbar!
+Ring for Gamel!
+Rung for Gamel!
+_Ring-rung-ring_ for Gamelbar!
+
+Yeomen, shout for Gamelbar,
+And his battle-hand in war!
+Heave his pennon;
+Cheer his men on,
+In the ranks of Gamelbar!
+Strength for Gamel,
+Song for Gamel,
+One war-song for Gamelbar!
+
+Roncliffe, shout for Gamelbar!
+Menthorpe, Bryan, Castelfar!
+Heave, Thorparch
+Of the Waving Larch,
+And Spofford's thane, for Gamelbar!
+Blaise for Gamel,
+Brame for Gamel,
+Rougharlington for Gamelbar!
+
+Maidens; strew for Gamelbar
+Roses down his way to war!
+Heave a handful,
+Fill the land full
+Of your gifts to Gamelbar!
+Dream of Gamel,
+Dance for Gamel,
+Dance in the halls for Gamelbar!
+
+Servitors, shout for Gamelbar!
+Roast the ox and stick the boar!
+Heave a bone
+To gaunt Harone,
+The great war-hound of Gamelbar!
+Mead for Gamel,
+Mirth for Gamel,
+Mirth at the board for Gamelbar!
+
+Trumpets, speak for Gamelbar!
+Blare as ye never blared before!
+Heave a bray
+In the horns to-day,
+The red war-horns of Gamelbar!
+To-night for Gamel,
+The North for Gamel,
+With fires on the hills for Gamelbar!
+
+Shout for Gamel, Gamelbar,
+Till your throats can shout no more!
+Heave a cry
+As he rideth by,
+Sons of Orm, for Gamelbar!
+Folk for Gamel,
+Fame for Gamel,
+Years and fame for Gamelbar!
+
+CHORUS:--Oh, sleep for a knave
+         With his sins in the sod!
+         And death for the brave,
+         With his glory up to God!
+         And joy for the girl,
+         And ease for the churl!
+         But the great game of war
+         For our lord Gamelbar,
+         Gamelbar!
+
+
+
+
+THE OUTLAW.
+
+
+Oh, let my lord laugh in his halls
+When he the tale shall tell!
+But woe to Jarlwell and its walls
+When I shall laugh as well!
+And he that laughs the last, lads,
+Laughs well, laughs well!
+
+He's lord of many a burg and farm
+And mickle thralls and gold,
+And I am but my own right arm,
+My dwelling-place the wold.
+But when we twain meet face to face,
+He will hot laugh so bold.
+
+The shame he chuckles as he shows
+This time he need not tell;
+I'll give his body to the crows,
+And his black soul to Hell.
+For he that laughs the last, lads,
+Laughs well, laughs well!
+
+
+
+
+THE KING'S SON.
+
+
+"Daughter, daughter, marry no man,
+Though a king's son come to woo,
+If he be not more than blessing or ban
+To the secret soul of you."
+
+"'Tis the King's son, indeed, I ween,
+And he left me even but now,
+And he shall make me a dazzling queen,
+With a gold crown on my brow."
+
+"And are you one that a golden crown,
+Or the lust of a name can lure?
+You had better wed with a country clown,
+And keep your young heart pure."
+
+"Mother, the King has sworn, and said
+That his son shall wed but me;
+And I must gang to the prince's bed,
+Or a traitor I shall be."
+
+"Oh, what care you for an old man's wrath?
+Or what care you for a king?
+I had rather you fled on an outlaw's path,
+A rebel, a hunted thing."
+
+"Mother, it is my father's will,
+For the King has promised him fair
+A goodly earldom of hollow and hill,
+And a coronet to wear."
+
+"Then woe is worth a father's name,
+For it names your dourest foe!
+I had rather you came the child of shame
+Than to have you fathered so."
+
+"Mother, I shall have gold enow,
+Though love be never mine,
+To buy all else that the world can show
+Of good and fair and fine."
+
+"Oh, what care you for a prince's gold,
+Or the key of a kingdom's till?
+I had rather see you a harlot bold
+That sins of her own free will.
+
+"For I have been wife for the stomach's sake,
+And I know whereof I say;
+A harlot is sold for a passing slake,
+But a wife is sold for aye.
+
+"Body and soul for a lifetime sell,
+And the price of the sale shall be
+That you shall be harlot and slave as well
+Until Death set you free."
+
+
+
+
+LAURANA'S SONG. FOR "A LADY OF VENICE."
+
+
+Who'll have the crumpled pieces of a heart?
+Let him take mine!
+Who'll give his whole of passion for a part,
+And call't divine?
+Who'll have the soiled remainder of desire?
+Who'll warm his fingers at a burnt-out fire?
+Who'll drink the lees of love, and cast i' the mire
+The nobler wine?
+
+Let him come here, and kiss me on the mouth,
+And have his will!
+Love dead and dry as summer in the South
+When winds are still
+And all the leafage shrivels in the heat!
+Let him come here and linger at my feet
+Till he grow weary with the over-sweet,
+And die, or kill.
+
+
+
+
+LAUNA DEE.
+
+
+Weary, oh, so weary
+With it all!
+Sunny days or dreary--
+How they pall!
+Why should we be heroes,
+Launa Dee,
+Striving to no winning?
+Let the world be Zero's!
+As in the beginning
+Let it be!
+
+What good comes of toiling,
+When all's done?
+Frail green sprays for spoiling
+Of the sun;
+Laurel leaf or myrtle,
+Love or fame--
+Ah, what odds what spray, sweet?
+Time, that makes life fertile,
+Makes its blooms decay, sweet,
+As they came.
+
+Lie here with me dreaming,
+Cheek to cheek,
+Lithe limbs twined and gleaming,
+Brown and sleek;
+Like two serpents coiling
+In their lair.
+Where's the good of wreathing
+Sprays for Time's despoiling?
+Let me feel your breathing
+In my hair.
+
+You and I together--
+Was it so?
+In the August weather
+Long ago!
+Did we kiss and fellow,
+Side by side,
+Till the sunbeams quickened
+From our stalks great yellow
+Sunflowers, till we sickened
+There and died?
+
+Were we tigers creeping
+Through the glade
+Where our prey lay sleeping,
+Unafraid,
+In some Eastern jungle?
+Better so.
+I am sure the snarling
+Beasts could never bungle
+Life as men do, darling,
+Who half know.
+
+Ah, if all of life, love,
+Were the living!
+Just to cease from strife, love,
+And from grieving;
+Let the swift world pass us,
+You and me,
+Stilled from all aspiring,--
+Sinai nor Parnassus
+Longer worth desiring,
+Launa Dee!
+
+Just to live like lilies
+In the lake!
+Where no thought nor will is,
+To mistake!
+Just to lose the human
+Eyes that weep!
+Just to cease from seeming
+Longer man and woman!
+Just to reach the dreaming
+And the sleep!
+
+
+
+
+THE MENDICANTS.
+
+
+We are as mendicants who wait
+Along the roadside in the sun.
+Tatters of yesterday and shreds
+Of morrow clothe us every one.
+
+And some are dotards, who believe
+And glory in the days of old;
+While some are dreamers, harping still
+Upon an unknown age of gold.
+
+Hopeless or witless! Not one heeds,
+As lavish Time comes down the way
+And tosses in the suppliant hat
+One great new-minted gold To-day.
+
+Ungrateful heart and grudging thanks,
+His beggar's wisdom only sees
+Housing and bread and beer enough;
+He knows no other things than these.
+
+O foolish ones, put by your care!
+Where wants are many, joys are few;
+And at the wilding springs of peace,
+God keeps an open house for you.
+
+But that some Fortunatus' gift
+Is lying there within his hand,
+More costly than a pot of pearls,
+His dulness does not understand.
+
+And so his creature heart is filled;
+His shrunken self goes starved away.
+Let him wear brand-new garments still,
+Who has a threadbare soul, I say.
+
+But there be others, happier few,
+The vagabondish sons of God,
+Who know the by-ways and the flowers,
+And care not how the world may plod.
+
+They idle down the traffic lands,
+And loiter through the woods with spring;
+To them the glory of the earth
+Is but to hear a bluebird sing.
+
+They too receive each one his Day;
+But their wise heart knows many things
+Beyond the sating of desire,
+Above the dignity of kings.
+
+One I remember kept his coin,
+And laughing flipped it in the air;
+But when two strolling pipe-players
+Came by, he tossed it to the pair.
+
+Spendthrift of joy, his childish heart
+Danced to their wild outlandish bars;
+Then supperless he laid him down
+That night, and slept beneath the stars.
+
+
+
+
+THE MARCHING MORROWS.
+
+
+Now gird thee well for courage,
+My knight of twenty year,
+Against the marching morrows
+That fill the world with fear!
+
+The flowers fade before them;
+The summer leaves the hill;
+Their trumpets range the morning,
+And those who hear grow still.
+
+Like pillagers of harvest,
+Their fame is far abroad,
+As gray remorseless troopers
+That plunder and maraud.
+
+The dust is on their corselets;
+Their marching fills the world;
+With conquest after conquest
+Their banners are unfurled.
+
+They overthrow the battles
+Of every lord of war,
+From world-dominioned cities
+Wipe out the names they bore.
+
+Sohrab, Rameses, Roland,
+Ramoth, Napoleon, Tyre,
+And the Romeward Huns of Attila--
+Alas, for their desire!
+
+By April and by autumn
+They perish in their pride,
+And still they close and gather
+Out of the mountain-side.
+
+The tanned and tameless children
+Of the wild elder earth,
+With stature of the northlights,
+They have the stars for girth.
+
+There's not a hand to stay them,
+Of all the hearts that brave;
+No captain to undo them,
+No cunning to off-stave.
+
+Yet fear thou not! If haply
+Thou be the kingly one,
+They'll set thee in their vanguard
+To lead them round the sun.
+
+
+
+
+IN THE WORKSHOP.
+
+
+Once in the Workshop, ages ago,
+The clay was wet and the fire was low.
+
+And He who was bent on fashioning man
+Moulded a shape from a clod,
+And put the loyal heart therein;
+While another stood watching by.
+
+"What's that?" said Beelzebub.
+"A lover," said God.
+And Beelzebub frowned, for he knew that kind.
+
+And then God fashioned a fellow shape
+As lithe as a willow rod,
+And gave it the merry roving eye
+And the range of the open road.
+
+"What's that?" said Beelzebub.
+"A vagrant," said God.
+And Beelzebub smiled, for he knew that kind.
+
+And last of all God fashioned a form,
+And gave it, what was odd,
+The loyal heart and the roving eye;
+And he whistled, light of care.
+
+"What's that?" said Beelzebub.
+"A poet," said God.
+And Beelzebub frowned, for he did not know.
+
+
+
+
+THE MOTE.
+
+
+Two shapes of august bearing, seraph tall,
+Of indolent imperturbable regard,
+Stood in the Tavern door to drink. As the first
+Lifted his glass to let the warm light melt
+In the slow bubbles of the wine, a sunbeam,
+Red and broad as smouldering autumn, smote
+Down through its mystery; and a single fleck,
+The tiniest sun-mote settling through the air,
+Fell on the grape-dark surface and there swam.
+
+Gently the Drinker with fastidious care
+Stretched hand to clear the speck away. "No, no!"--
+His comrade stayed his arm. "Why," said the first,
+"What would you have me do?" "Ah, let it float
+A moment longer!" And the second smiled.
+"Do you not know what that is?" "No, indeed."
+"A mere dust-mote, a speck of soot, you think,
+A plague-germ still unsatisfied. It is not.
+That is the Earth. See, I will stretch my hand
+Between it and the sun; the passing shadow
+Gives its poor dwellers a glacial period.
+Let it but stand an hour, it would dissolve,
+Intangible as the color of the wine.
+There, throw it away now! Lift it from the sweet
+Enveloping flood it has enjoyed so well;"
+(He smiled as only those who live can smile)
+"Its time is done, its revelry complete,
+Its being accomplished. Let us drink again."
+
+
+
+
+IN THE HOUSE OF IDIEDAILY.
+
+
+Oh, but life went gayly, gayly,
+In the house of Idiedaily!
+
+There were always throats to sing
+Down the river-banks with spring,
+
+When the stir of heart's desire
+Set the sapling's heart on fire.
+
+Bobolincolns in the meadows,
+Leisure in the purple shadows,
+
+Till the poppies without number
+Bowed their heads in crimson slumber,
+
+And the twilight came to cover
+Every unreluctant lover.
+
+Not a night but some brown maiden
+Bettered all the dusk she strayed in,
+
+While the roses in her hair
+Bankrupted oblivion there.
+
+Oh, but life went gayly, gayly,
+In the house of Idiedaily!
+
+But this hostelry, The Barrow,
+With its chambers, bare and narrow,
+
+Mean, ill-windowed, damp, and wormy,
+Where the silence makes you squirmy,
+
+And the guests are never seen to,
+Is a vile place, a mere lean-to,
+
+Not a traveller speaks well of,
+Even worse than I heard tell of,
+
+Mouldy, ramshackle, and foul.
+What a dwelling for a soul!
+
+Oh, but life went gayly, gayly,
+In the house of Idiedaily!
+
+There the hearth was always warm,
+From the slander of the storm.
+
+There your comrade was your neighbor,
+Living on to-morrow's labor.
+
+And the board was always steaming,
+Though Sir Ringlets might be dreaming.
+
+Not a plate but scoffed at porridge,
+Not a cup but floated borage.
+
+There were always jugs of sherry
+Waiting for the makers merry,
+
+And the dark Burgundian wine
+That would make a fool divine.
+
+Oh, but life went gayly, gayly
+In the house of Idiedaily!
+
+
+
+
+RESIGNATION.
+
+
+When I am only fit to go to bed,
+Or hobble out to sit within the sun,
+Ring down the curtain, say the play is done,
+And the last petals of the poppy shed!
+
+I do not want to live when I am old,
+I have no use for things I cannot love;
+And when the day that I am talking of
+(Which God forfend!) is come, it will be cold.
+
+But if there is another place than this,
+Where all the men will greet me as "Old Man,"
+And all the women wrap me in a smile,
+Where money is more useless than a kiss,
+And good wine is not put beneath the ban,
+I will go there and stay a little while.
+
+
+
+
+COMRADES.
+
+
+Comrades, pour the wine to-night
+For the parting is with dawn!
+Oh, the clink of cups together,
+With the daylight coming on!
+Greet the morn
+With a double horn,
+When strong men drink together!
+
+Comrades, gird your swords to-night,
+For the battle is with dawn!
+Oh, the clash of shields together,
+With the triumph coming on!
+Greet the foe,
+And lay him low,
+When strong men fight together!
+
+Comrades, watch the tides to-night,
+For the sailing is with dawn!
+Oh, to face the spray together,
+With the tempest coming on!
+Greet the sea
+With a shout of glee,
+When strong men roam together!
+
+Comrades, give a cheer to-night,
+For the dying is with dawn!
+Oh, to meet the stars together,
+With the silence coming on!
+Greet the end
+As a friend a friend,
+When strong men die together!
+
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Songs from Vagabondia, by 
+Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA ***
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