OLD things, strange things, stir in the blood of me! A caveman bludgeons to the earth his prey; Adventuring Norsemen ride the wind and sea; Gay cavaliers fling reckless dice at play. A pirate hides his chest of ill-got gold; A prelate of the church tells beads at prayer; A robber baron swaggers, roistering, bold; A mountain shepherd tends his flocks with care. A Puritan sets forth for unknown lands; A soldier falls; a cloistered scholar walks; A Scottish elder prays with lifted hands; A poet dreams; a savage tomahawks. A princess binds her braids of pale gold hair; A farmer's wife sets forth her pies and cakes; A gypsy maiden sings a haunting air; A faithless wife her liege's hearth forsakes. All these go surging in the blood of me— The blood that ran in them, my heritage! Why else have I mad longing for the sea? Why do I shake with wild insensate rage? Why do I dream? Why feel the need to pray? And why do mountains calm the soul of me? Why do I keep upon my narrow way, @3Who know so well the road to Romany?@1 They know—they know—whose blood is met in me! I know—that I can nevermore be free! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WEARY BLUES by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES BAVARIAN GENTIANS by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE MARECHAL NIEL by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH A LAMENT FOR PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN A WOMAN'S SONNETS: 3 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |