Songs from Vagabondia

by Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey


 

A WAIF


 

DO you know what it is to be vagrant born?
A waif is only a waif. And so,
For another idle hour I sit,
In large content while the fire burns low.

I gossip here to my crony heart

5

Of the day just over, and count it one
Of the royal elemental days,
Though its dreams were few and its deeds were none.

Outside, the winter; inside, the warmth
And a sweet oblivion of turmoil. Why?

10
All for a gentle girlish hand
With its warm and lingering good-bye.