Songs of Men: An Anthology Robert Frothingham

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Songs of Men: An Anthology  by  Robert Frothingham

Songs of Men: An Anthology by Robert Frothingham
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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free.This is an OCR edition with typos.Excerpt from book:/ ff .--...,,- f . THE BELOVED VAGABOND THE BELOVED VAGABOND V,MorePurchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free.This is an OCR edition with typos.Excerpt from book:/ ff .--...,,- f . THE BELOVED VAGABOND THE BELOVED VAGABOND V, G. T.vckor.- ef A c--s You who were once so careless, I can recall you now, Your blue-gray visionary eyes, your great and open brow,| With naught to bind your heart-strings, and all the world in fee, You went where all the roads lead, beyond the farthest sea.

Lover of space and skyline, what vision seared your eyes? What gypsy word was winged to you that bade you gird and rise? What thread of smoke sent onward your restless, eager feet ? What vagrant heart was waiting your wayward heart to greet ? We, who are kin to the city, across the candles praise Your tales of camps in twilight, your great and gallant ways, Your knowledge of the mysteries deep-hidden by the wood, The pagan trust you placed in man, the world you found so good. Then leave a patrin for mine eyes that I may follow too, Some day when all the world grows dim, and I shall beckon you- Across the distant moorland, from beacon furze piled high, May I, the newest rover, see your fire against the PEN AND INK ArtflTfcvV L n Ye wanderers that were my sires, Who read mens fortunes in the hand, Who voyaged with your smithy fires From waste to waste across the land, Why did you leave for garth and town Your life by heath and rivers brink?

Why lay your gipsy freedom down And doom your child to Pen and Ink ?.. You wearied of your wild-wood meal That crowned, or failed to crown, the day, Too honest or too tame to steal, You broke into the beaten way: Plied loom or awl like other men And learned to love the guineas chink — Oh, recreant sires, who doomed me then To earn so few — with Pen and Ink! Where it hath fallen the tree must lie..

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