Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE LAST VAGABOND, by J. N. GREELY


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE LAST VAGABOND, by                    
First Line: Oh, we swung out of the courtyard gate
Last Line: "but I -- the road's my bride."
Subject(s): Wandering & Wanderers; Yale University; Wanderlust; Vagabonds; Tramps; Hoboes


OH, we swung out of the courtyard gate,
And into the sunny road,
That ran so crooked, that ran so straight,
Our goal, and ever our goad.

The road lay beautiful, blinding white,
And the world was very young,
Or young it seemed to our fresh young sight
And a careless song we sung:

"Oh, He is wed to his dulling toil,
And He to his fireside,
And He to the sodden sweat of the soil;
And a captive He in chance's coil;
But I -- the road's my bride."

Yet one dropped under the noonday sun;
And we left him lying still.
We wanted to see where the road would run,
What lay behind the hill.

And one dropped out at the little inn --
Oh, the wine was very good --
But we laughed at him, cooped up within,
Atramp through the good God's wood.

And one dropped out when the rain swirled down,
And the wind chilled to the bone,
And turned to the sheltering nearest town;
While we swung on alone.

Oh, we were young and the world was young
And all the world our friend,
When out of the great gray gate we flung --
And you are at journey's end.

Your path stops short, half up the hill,
At a vinegrown home; but I
Shall follow the beckoning long road still.
Old man, good night, good-by!

"Oh, He is wed to his dulling toil,
And He to his own fireside,
And He to the sodden sweat of the soil;
And a captive He in chance's coil;
But I -- the road's my bride."





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