Copyright, 1895, by

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.

THE VAGABOND

(To an air of Schubert)

G

IVE 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.

YOUTH AND LOVE-I

NCE 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

T

O 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.