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 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
“STROLLING TOWARD SHOTTERY”
Strolling toward Shottery on one showery day,
We saw upon the turf beside the path
A clown who, stooping by the pleasant way,
Rough-cobbled his torn shoes and spoke in feignèd wrath.
We saw upon the turf beside the path
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Rough-cobbled his torn shoes and spoke in feignèd wrath.
At first we thought him brain-touched and askew,
But, as we listened to his shrilling talk,
We found him prating of some things he knew,
Tho' others he but guessed;—we halted in our walk.
But, as we listened to his shrilling talk,
We found him prating of some things he knew,
Tho' others he but guessed;—we halted in our walk.
His was the wisdom shrewd of roadside men,
Gathered in wanderings through the country wide;
He had a cynic wit, and to his ken
The world wagged wickedly—saved by its humorous side.
Gathered in wanderings through the country wide;
He had a cynic wit, and to his ken
The world wagged wickedly—saved by its humorous side.
Racy his speech and, tho' it bit, good-hearted;
There was an honest freshness in the tramp;
We felt his debtor, therefore when we parted
Some pennies wealthier the philosophic scamp!
There was an honest freshness in the tramp;
We felt his debtor, therefore when we parted
Some pennies wealthier the philosophic scamp!
Laughing we followed on to sweet Anne's cot:
—Perhaps like us her lover left the town;
Like us he crossed the pretty pasture lot,
And met,—and made immortal,—one more Shakespeare clown.
—Perhaps like us her lover left the town;
Like us he crossed the pretty pasture lot,
And met,—and made immortal,—one more Shakespeare clown.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |