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| I SHALL go on the gypsies’ road, | |
| The road that has no ending; | |
| For the sedge is brown on the lone lake side, | |
| The wild geese eastward tending. | |
| |
| I shall go as the unfetter’d wave, | 5 |
| From shore to shore, forgetting | |
| The grief that lies ’neath a roof-tree’s shade, | |
| The years that bring regretting. | |
| |
| No law shall dare my wandering stay, | |
| No man my acres measure; | 10 |
| The world was made for the gypsies’ feet, | |
| The winding road for pleasure. | |
| |
| And I shall drift as the pale leaf stray’d, | |
| Whither the wild wind listed, | |
| I shall sleep in the dark of the hedge, | 15 |
| ’Neath rose and thorn entwisted. | |
| |
| This was a call in the heart of the night, | |
| A whispering dream’s dear treasure: | |
| ‘The world was made for the nomads’ feet, | |
| The winding road for pleasure.’ | 20 |
| |
| I stole at dawn from my roof-tree’s shade, | |
| And the cares that it did cover; | |
| I flew to the heart of the fierce north wind, | |
| As a maid will greet her lover. | |
| |
| But a thousand hands did draw me back | 25 |
| And bid me to their tending; | |
| I may not go on the gypsies’ road— | |
| The road that has no ending. | |
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