Songs of Travel

Excerpt

I—THE VAGABOND
(To an air of Schubert)

Give to me the life I love,
   Let the lave go by me,
Give the jolly heaven above
   And the byway nigh me.
Bed in the bush with stars to see,
   Bread I dip in the river—
There’s the life for a man like me,
   There’s the life for ever.

Let the blow fall soon or late,
   Let what will be o’er me;
Give the face of earth around
   And the road before me.
Wealth I seek not, hope nor love,
   Nor a friend to know me;
All I seek, the heaven above
   And the road below me.

Or let autumn fall on me
   Where afield I linger,
Silencing the bird on tree,
   Biting the blue finger.
White as meal the frosty field—
   Warm the fireside haven—
Not to autumn will I yield,
   Not to winter even!

Let the blow fall soon or late,
   Let what will be o’er me;
Give the face of earth around,
   And the road before me.
Wealth I ask not, hope nor love,
   Nor a friend to know me;
All I ask, the heaven above
   And the road below me.

Once only by the garden gate
   Our lips we joined and parted.
I must fulfil an empty fate
   And travel the uncharted.

Hail and farewell!  I must arise,
   Leave here the fatted cattle,
And paint on foreign lands and skies
   My Odyssey of battle.

The untented Kosmos my abode,
   I pass, a wilful stranger:
My mistress still the open road
   And the bright eyes of danger.

Come ill or well, the cross, the crown,
   The rainbow or the thunder,
I fling my soul and body down
   For God to plough them under.

III—YOUTH AND LOVE—II

To the heart of youth the world is a highwayside.
Passing for ever, he fares; and on either hand,
Deep in the gardens golden pavilions hide,
Nestle in orchard bloom, and far on the level land
Call him with lighted lamp in the eventide.

Thick as the stars at night when the moon is down,
Pleasures assail him.  He to his nobler fate
Fares; and but waves a hand as he passes on,
Cries but a wayside word to her at the garden gate,
Sings but a boyish stave and his face is gone.

In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand
      As heretofore:
The unremembered tokens in your hand
      Avail no more.

No more the morning glow, no more the grace,
      Enshrines, endears.
Cold beats the light of time upon your face
      And shows your tears.

He came and went.  Perchance you wept a while
      And then forgot.
Ah me! but he that left you with a smile
      Forgets you not.

V

She rested by the Broken Brook,
   She drank of Weary Well,
She moved beyond my lingering look,
   Ah, whither none can tell!

She came, she went.  In other lands,
   Perchance in fairer skies,
Her hands shall cling with other hands,
   Her eyes to other eyes.

She vanished.  In the sounding town,
   Will she remember too?
Will she recall the eyes of brown
   As I recall the blue?

The infinite shining heavens
   Rose and I saw in the night
Uncountable angel stars
   Showering sorrow and light.

I saw them distant as heaven,
   Dumb and shining and dead,
And the idle stars of the night
   Were dearer to me than bread....