24. A Vagabond Song. Bliss Carman. Modern American Poetry

Louis Untermeyer, ed. (1885–1977). Modern American Poetry. 1919.

Bliss Carman. 1861–

24. A Vagabond Song

THERE is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry	5
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,	10
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.