 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
THE TRAMP'S FRIEND.
What if he be old and poor,
With nor bread nor bed secure?
What if elbows ragged be,
Trousers fringed and patched at knee?
What if boots their age reveal,
Out at toe and down at heel?
What if hat have color dim,
Parted crown and absent rim?
What if hair be all unkempt,
Beard from razor-edge exempt?
Food unwholesome, lodging damp,
Branded bummer, spurned as scamp—
Ah, how happy is the tramp!
With nor bread nor bed secure?
What if elbows ragged be,
Trousers fringed and patched at knee?
What if boots their age reveal,
Out at toe and down at heel?
What if hat have color dim,
Parted crown and absent rim?
What if hair be all unkempt,
Beard from razor-edge exempt?
Food unwholesome, lodging damp,
Branded bummer, spurned as scamp—
Ah, how happy is the tramp!
Near him ever is a maid,
Modest she and half-afraid,
Gentle, loving, frank and fair,
Crowned with wealth of golden hair;
Eyes whose purest azure vies
With the hue of Summer skies;
Glances filled with tenderness,
Every movement a caress;
Voice like running water clear,
Murmuring music to the ear.
Who is she who thus attends him,
To a pleasant life commends him,
Comforts, stimulates, defends him?
Modest she and half-afraid,
Gentle, loving, frank and fair,
Crowned with wealth of golden hair;
Eyes whose purest azure vies
With the hue of Summer skies;
Glances filled with tenderness,
Every movement a caress;
Voice like running water clear,
Murmuring music to the ear.
Who is she who thus attends him,
510
Comforts, stimulates, defends him?
Who is she that bringeth back,
In his cloudy memory's track,
Visions of the scenes and ways
Of the old-time banished days,
Filling eye and brain with pleasure
Of imaginary treasure,
Giving warmth amid the snow,
Coolness in the Summer glow,
And by magic power attended,
Changing rags to raiment splendid?
Is she fairy? Is she woman?
Mortal form or superhuman?
Neither. Let your fancy topple.
'Tis a jug with corn-cob stopple.
In his cloudy memory's track,
Visions of the scenes and ways
Of the old-time banished days,
Filling eye and brain with pleasure
Of imaginary treasure,
Giving warmth amid the snow,
Coolness in the Summer glow,
And by magic power attended,
Changing rags to raiment splendid?
Is she fairy? Is she woman?
Mortal form or superhuman?
Neither. Let your fancy topple.
'Tis a jug with corn-cob stopple.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |