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Posts Tagged ‘gypsy’

mWIHC4M


I can’t spend the night in Poughkeepsie,
Though I’m tired and the whole world seems tipsy.
I’ve farther to go
And must not e’en slow.
I’m footloose and free as a gypsy.

——————– 

photo by Karen Kelly at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/mWIHC4M/vacancy

——————–

© Dennis Allen Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2018.

 

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Time, you old gipsy man,
Will you not stay?
Put up your caravan
Just for one day?

All things I’ll give you
Will you be my guest,
Bells for your jennet
Of silver the best,
Goldsmiths shall beat you
A great golden ring,
Peacocks shall bow to you,
Little boys sing.
Oh, and sweet girls will
Festoon you with may,
Time, you old gipsy,
Why hasten away?

Last week in Babylon,
Last night in Rome,
Morning, and in the crush
Under Paul’s dome;
Under Paul’s dial
You tighten your rein –
Only a moment,
And off once again;
Off to some city
Now blind in the womb,
Off to another
Ere that’s in the tomb.

Time, you old gipsy man,
Will you not stay,
Put up your caravan
Just for one day?


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I must go down to the seas again, the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea’s face, and a gray dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way, where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

                 

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