TO A VAGABOND
But half of me is woman grown;
The other half is child.
But half my heart loves quiet ways;
The other half is wild.
And so to hear your gypsy song
I dare not come again;
To-morrow, when the twilight falls,
Your voice will lure in vain.
For all of you is vagabond
And all of you is free;
Your feet roam still the winding trails
That now are strange to me.
My gypsy feet are captive held
Within a garden-space
Since I renounced the whole wide world
For one belovèd face.
But half of me is woman grown;
The other half is child.
But half my heart loves quiet ways;
The other half is wild.
And so to hear your gypsy song
I dare not come again;
To-morrow, when the twilight falls,
Your voice will lure in vain.
For all of you is vagabond
And all of you is free;
Your feet roam still the winding trails
That now are strange to me.
My gypsy feet are captive held
Within a garden-space
Since I renounced the whole wide world
For one belovèd face.