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diff --git a/18238.txt b/18238.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6430170 --- /dev/null +++ b/18238.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2421 @@ +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: ASCII + +*** 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 Neufchatel; +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 *** + +***** This file should be named 18238.txt or 18238.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/2/3/18238/ + +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)) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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