The firelight plays since dusk began To gather in the room, Beyond the pane the daylight’s span Grows to the evening gloom; But my heart is out with the gipsy man In his lair among the broom.
Beside the farm both barn and stack Dark in the steading rise, Up in the loaning green, the track Along the firwood lies, Where the gipsy sits with his brows of black, And the black light in his eyes.
He marks the swift owl skim the trees When twilight turns to grey, He hears the whisper up the leas Before the coming day, And the secret hours of the world he sees And the soul of night at play.
His ceiling is the drooping bough, The fir-trees’ ragged limb, When from the hills the western sough Sings o’er the lowlands dim; And the polestar, hanging above the Plough, Is the lantern-flame for him.
O weary roof and crowding wall That bar the scented air! O chain and key whose ceaseless thrall Lies on a world of care, There are no bolts shot in the firwood tall But the joy of life is there!
O to be out when spring has drest The green moss for a bed, To roam by plain and wooded crest Till the rose-hips turn to red; And to lay me down for the last long rest, With the great sky overhead!
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‘COME ON, COME UP, YE ROVERS’
Come on, come up, ye rovers Whose ships at anchor ride, The west wind stirs the clovers, And O! the world is wide: So, up with your chains as the sun goes down And out upon the tide!
There drives on the Atlantic The torn scud of the rain, And lines of foam leap frantic Against the coast of Spain, Where the air is full of the souls of men Who sailed the Spanish Main.
Where Rocca’s light is burning On plunging miles of sea, Eastward and eastward turning, By Crete and Tripoli, There is a spirit abroad in the wind That cries aloud to me.
The coast drops low behind you, The gull swoops round the spars; Shall small men’s limits bind you Whose milestones are the stars? Whose signposts stand where Orion swings Above earth’s locks and bars?
Come up, ye sons of morning, This world was built for you! Far off, Heaven’s light’s adorning The lands where dreams come true; And the Angel that sits at the Gates of the East Shall open and let you through.
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