Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE VAGABOND, by CARROLL RYAN



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE VAGABOND, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: But yesterday I saw a ragged wight
Last Line: "beautiful! Terrible!"
Alternate Author Name(s): Ryan, William Thomas Carroll
Subject(s): Wandering & Wanderers


But yesterday I saw a ragged wight
Looking so happy and so free from care;
He sunned himself with such a huge delight,
And laughed so loud he made the people stare.
I envied the poor wretch his frolic glee,
And watched him long to note a hidden pain,
But not a lurking trouble could I see,
For misery on him seemed cast in vain.
I wondered at the fellow laughing out
At his own vagrant fancies, loud and long.
I asked him why he was so glad—a shout
He raised, and answered me with this wild song:—

"O, I am glad because I have
No wife, no friends, no home!
The winds go by less free than I,
Where'er I wish to roam.
My home is on the wide, wide world,
Where'er I chance to be,
When the sun goes down, o'er waste or town,
'Tis all the same to me.

"I roll me in my ragged cloak
Upon my mother Earth—
Kind I ween has that mother been
Who cradled me since birth.
I would not teach my thoughts to cling
Round any single place,
Nor try to twine a wreath divine
For fairest maiden's face.

"For the brightest scene will alter,
The fairest face grow old,
But Nature true is ever new,
The more we her behold.
I have no friend, nor care for one,
While winds and waves are free,
While eyes of love in skies above
Look smilingly on me.

"I love the jolly, rolling world,
Find joy in everything:
I have no wealth but life and health,
And so I laugh and sing.
When parts Aurora's misty veil
That wraps her eastern bed
And lifts her charms from Tithon's arms
Her smiles o'er waters spread,

"I greet her with a joyful song,
I haste o'er dewy hills
Where skylarks wing their flight, and sing
Till heaven with music thrills.
At noonday glare I lie me down
In groves where streamlets glide,
And my sleep teems with glorious dreams
No mortal dreams beside.

"Lord of that land of dreams am I,
There nothing vile intrudes—
Spirits of air and light are there
In countless multitudes.
Aerial strains of melody
They sing my couch around,
For me they pour the hidden lore
Of mysteries profound.

"When evening breeze is whispering,
Like sighs of lovelorn maid,
And weary car of Phoebus far
Has sunk in western shade,
By guiding light of Hesperus
I wait the rising moon,
While winds of night in gusty flight
Chant an unearthly tune.

"Ghosts of the past arise around—
Wild are the tales they tell—
Some darkly glare, some are fair,
Beautiful! terrible!"





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