THE GIPSY CHILD.
He grows like the young oak, healthy and broad,
With no home but the forest, no bed but the swand;
Half-naked, he wades in the limpid stream,
Or dances about in the scorching beam.
The dazzling glare of the banquet sheen
Hath never fallen on him, I ween;
But fragments are spread, and the wood-fire piled:
And sweet is the meal of the gipsy child.
With no home but the forest, no bed but the swand;
Half-naked, he wades in the limpid stream,
Or dances about in the scorching beam.
The dazzling glare of the banquet sheen
Hath never fallen on him, I ween;
But fragments are spread, and the wood-fire piled:
And sweet is the meal of the gipsy child.
He wanders at large, while maidens admire
His raven hair, and his eyes of fire;
They mark his cheek's rich, tawny hue,
With the deep carnation flushing through:
He laughs aloud, and they covet his teeth,
All pure and white as their own pearl wreath;
And the courtly dame, and damsel mild,
Will turn to gaze on the gipsy child.
His raven hair, and his eyes of fire;
They mark his cheek's rich, tawny hue,
With the deep carnation flushing through:
He laughs aloud, and they covet his teeth,
All pure and white as their own pearl wreath;
And the courtly dame, and damsel mild,
Will turn to gaze on the gipsy child.
Up with the sun, he is roving along,
Whistling to mimic the blackbird's song;
He wanders at nightfall to startle the owl,
And is baying again to the watch-dog's howl.
His limbs are unshackled, his spirit is bold,
He is free from the evils of fashion and gold;
His dower is scant and his life is wild,
But kings might envy the gipsy child.
Whistling to mimic the blackbird's song;
He wanders at nightfall to startle the owl,
And is baying again to the watch-dog's howl.
His limbs are unshackled, his spirit is bold,
He is free from the evils of fashion and gold;
His dower is scant and his life is wild,
But kings might envy the gipsy child.
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