Few folk like the wind's way; Fewer folk like mine, -- Folk who rise at nine, Who live to drudge and dine, Who never see the starry light, And sleep in the same bed each night Under the same roof; When the rascal wind and I Happen to be gadding by, Gentlefolk, so fat and fine Beg to hold aloof, Leaving us to starlit beds, and husks amid the swine. Few folk like the wind's song, And fewer folk like mine, -- Folk who trudge the trodden way, Who keep the track and never stray, Who think the sun's for making hay, -- Folk who cannot dance or play, Faultless folk and fine. Yet, the wind and I are gay, In our ragamuffin way, Singing, storm or shine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HERO AND LEANDER by CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE CROSSING THE PLAINS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER O, BREATHE NOT HIS NAME! by THOMAS MOORE PSALM OF THOSE WHO GO FORTH BEFORE DAYLIGHT by CARL SANDBURG EYE-WITNESS by FREDERICK RIDGELY TORRENCE RIVALRY IN LOVE by WILLIAM WALSH (1663-1707) |