HERE'S to the halcyon weather, And the wild, unfettered will, The crickets chirring, the west wind stirring The hemlocks on the hill! Here's to the faring foot, and here's to the dreaming eye! And here's to the heart that will not be still Under the open sky! Ever the gypsy longing Comes when the halcyons wing; Once you own it, once you have known it, Oh, the thrall of the thing! A flute-call and a lute-call quavering loud or low, It clutches you with its rapturing, And it will not let you go! So it's hail to you, my rover, The god-child of the sun! In our heir-dom, -- freedom from care-dom, -- You and I are one! One with the many migrants, field-folk feathered or furred, Ever ready to rally and run At the sign of the silvery word! The ways we were wont to follow, We are fain of them no more; Rather the braided boughs and the shaded Paths by the rillet shore! -- The tansy hints and the myrrh of mints, and the balms that the balsams shed, The berries, crimson-sweet at the core, By these are we lured and led. Then here's to the halcyon weather, And the old, untrammeled will, -- Cicadas tuning, the west wind crooning Behind the crest of the hill! Here's to the truant foot, and here's to the dreaming eye! And here's to the heart that will not be still Under the open sky! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EARTH TRIUMPHANT by CONRAD AIKEN MUSIC OF HUNGARY by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH FIRST VOYAGE OF COLUMBUS by JOANNA BAILLIE IN A LETTER TO A.R.C. ON HER WISHING TO BE CALLED ANNA by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS THE WANDERER: 5. IN HOLLAND: A NIGHT IN THE FISHERMAN'S HUT by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |