 | W. V. Her Book and Various Verses |  |
127
The Wanderer II
He knows no home; he only knows
Hunger and cold and pain;
The four winds are his bedfellows;
His sleep is dashed with rain.
Hunger and cold and pain;
The four winds are his bedfellows;
His sleep is dashed with rain.
'Tis nought to him who fails, who thrives;
He neither hopes nor fears;
Some dim primeval impulse drives
His footsteps down the years.
He neither hopes nor fears;
Some dim primeval impulse drives
His footsteps down the years.
129
He could not, if he would, forsake
Lone road and field and tree.
Yet, think! it takes a God to make
E'en such a waif as he.
Lone road and field and tree.
Yet, think! it takes a God to make
E'en such a waif as he.
And once a maiden, asked for bread,
Saw, as she gave her dole,
No friendless vagrant, but, instead,
An indefeasible Soul.
Saw, as she gave her dole,
No friendless vagrant, but, instead,
An indefeasible Soul.
| W. V. Her Book and Various Verses | |