VAGABONDIA.

Off with the fetters

That chafe and restrain!

Off with the chain!

Here Art and Letters,

Music and wine,

And Myrtle and Wanda,

The winsome witches,

Blithely combine.

Here are true riches,

Here is Golconda,

Here are the Indies,

Here we are free —

Free as the wind is,

Free, as the sea.

Free!

Houp-la!

What have we

To do with the way

Of the Pharisee?

We go or we stay

At our own sweet will;

We think as we say,

And we say or keep still

At our own sweet will,

At our own sweet will.

Here we are free

To be good or bad,

Sane or mad,

Merry or grim

As the mood may be,—

Free as the whim

Of a spook on a spree,—

Free to be oddities,

Not mere commodities,

Stupid and salable,

Wholly available,

Ranged upon shelves;

Each with his puny form

In the same uniform,

Cramped and disabled;

We are not labelled,

We are ourselves.

Here is the real,

Here the ideal;

Laughable hardship

Met and forgot,

Glory of bardship —

World's bloom and world's blot;

The shock and the jostle,

The mock and the push,

But hearts like the throstle

A-joy in the bush;

Wits that would merrily

Laugh away wrong,

Throats that would verily

Melt Hell in Song.

What though the dimes be

Elusive as rhymes be,

And Bessie, with finger

Uplifted, is warning

That breakfast next morning

( A subject she's scorning )

Is mighty uncertain!

What care we? Linger

A moment to kiss —

No time's amiss

To a vagabond's ardor —

Thee finish the larder

And pull down the curtain.

Unless ere the kiss come,

Black Richard or Bliss come,

Or Tom with a flagon,

Or Karl with a jag on —

Then up and after

The joy of the night

With the hounds of laughter

To follow the flight

Of the fox-foot hours

That double and run

Through brakes and bowers

Of folly and fun.

With the comrade heart

For a moment's play,

And the comrade heart

For a heavier day,

And the comrade heart

Forever and aye.

For the joy of wine

Is not for long;

And the joy of song

Is a dream of shine;

But the comrade heart

Shall outlast art

And a woman's love

The fame thereof.

But wine for a sign

Of the love we bring!

And song for an oath

That Love is king!

And both, and both

For his worshipping!

Then up and away

Till the break of day,

With a heart that's merry,

And a Tom-and-Jerry,

And a derry-down-derry —

What's that you say.

You highly respectable

Buyers and sellers?

We should be decenter?

Not as we please inter

Custom, frugality,

Use and morality

In the delectable

Depths of wine-cellars?

Midnights of revel,

And noondays of song!

Is it so wrong?

Go to the Devil!

I tell you that we,

While you are smirking

And lying and shirking

Life's duty of duties,

Honest sincerity,

We are in verity

Free!

Free to rejoice

In blisses and beauties!

Free as the voice

Of the wind as it passes!

Free as the bird

In the weft of the grasses!

Free as the word

Of the sun to the sea —

Free!