 | Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
A PASSING WISH.
Oh, for the life of a gipsy!
A strong-arm, barefoot girl;
And to have the wind for a waiting-maid
To keep my hair in curl;
To bring me scent of the violet,
And the red rose, and the pine;
And at night to spread my grassy bed—
Ah! would n't it be divine?
A strong-arm, barefoot girl;
And to have the wind for a waiting-maid
To keep my hair in curl;
To bring me scent of the violet,
And the red rose, and the pine;
And at night to spread my grassy bed—
Ah! would n't it be divine?
Oh, for the life of a gipsy!
So gloriously free!
Through the world to roam, and to find a home
'Neath every greenwood tree;
To milk my cow in the meadow,
Wherever she chanced to stand;
And to have my cornfields planted
By every lad in the land!
So gloriously free!
Through the world to roam, and to find a home
'Neath every greenwood tree;
To milk my cow in the meadow,
Wherever she chanced to stand;
And to have my cornfields planted
By every lad in the land!
Oh, for the life of a gipsy!
With the dew to fringe my gown;
And to have the sun for a sweetheart
To come and kiss me brown;
To take each little chubby-cheek
That I chose, and call her mine,
And teach her to tramp from camp to camp—
Ah! would n't it be divine?
With the dew to fringe my gown;
And to have the sun for a sweetheart
To come and kiss me brown;
To take each little chubby-cheek
That I chose, and call her mine,
And teach her to tramp from camp to camp—
Ah! would n't it be divine?
180
Oh, for the life of a gipsy!
To lie in the lazy shades;
And to predict sweet fairings
To all the village maids;
To give them caps of pretty flowers,
And shawls of wool so white,
And troops of lovers to sing them songs
At their window-panes at night!
To lie in the lazy shades;
And to predict sweet fairings
To all the village maids;
To give them caps of pretty flowers,
And shawls of wool so white,
And troops of lovers to sing them songs
At their window-panes at night!
Oh, for the life of a gipsy!
To hunt the hare for play;
And to take my trap on my shoulder
And hie away and away—
Away to the tents by the water,
When the stars begin to shine—
To my glad wild crew, with hearts so true—
Ah! would n't it be divine?
To hunt the hare for play;
And to take my trap on my shoulder
And hie away and away—
Away to the tents by the water,
When the stars begin to shine—
To my glad wild crew, with hearts so true—
Ah! would n't it be divine?
Oh, for the life of a gipsy!
To be up at the dawning gray;
And to have my dog, like my shadow,
Beside me all the day;
To have a hat of plaited straw,
And a cloak of scarlet dye,
And shoot like a light through the glens at night,
And make the owlets cry!
To be up at the dawning gray;
And to have my dog, like my shadow,
Beside me all the day;
To have a hat of plaited straw,
And a cloak of scarlet dye,
And shoot like a light through the glens at night,
And make the owlets cry!
Oh, for the life of a gipsy!
To roam the wild woods through;
To have the wind for a waiting-maid,
And the sun for a sweetheart true;
To say to my restless conscience,
Be still; you are no more mine!
And to hold my heart beneath my art—
Ah! would n't it be divine?
To roam the wild woods through;
To have the wind for a waiting-maid,
And the sun for a sweetheart true;
To say to my restless conscience,
Be still; you are no more mine!
181
Ah! would n't it be divine?
| Early and late poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |