Gypsy Rovings

I was sitting mid a sea of thoughts.
The door was open wide.
The Spring sunlight was flecking
My attic room, inside.
The curtains swayed and rustled
With springtime’s’ mocking breeze.
The long white highway called me,
The wind among the trees.
A tiny breeze came prancing in
With neither please nor may.
It took possession of my heart;
It made me yearn to stray.
It filled my heart with roving,
It stirred my gypsy blood.
What could I do but hearken?
But answer to the mood?
I left the foot-stool empty;
The kettle bubbling o’er;
I left the sunny attic
And open left the door;
So I followed out the teachings
Of a heart so gypsy free
That nought could ever hold me when
The road is calling me.

– Circa 1926

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