THE April world is misted with emerald and gold; The meadow larks are calling sweet and keen; Gypsy-heart is up and off for woodland and for wold, Roaming, roaming, roaming through the green. Gypsy-heart, away! Ah, the wind -- the wind and the sun! Take the blithe adventure of the fugitive today: Youth will soon be done. From buds that May is kissing there trembles forth a soul; The rosy boughs are whispering the white. Gypsy-heart is heedless now of thrush and oriole, Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming of delight. Gypsy-heart, beware! Ah, the song -- the song in the blood! Magic walks the forest; there's bewitchment on the air, Spring is at the flood. The wings of June are woven of fragrance and of fire; Heap roses, crimson roses, for her throne. Gypsy-heart is anguished with tumultuous desire, Seeking, seeking, seeking for its own. Gypsy-heart, abide! Oh, the far -- the far is the near! 'Tis a foolish fable that the universe is wide. All the world is here. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MR. HOUSMAN'S MESSAGE by EZRA POUND DISDAIN RETURNED by THOMAS CAREW WITH WHOM IS NO VARIABLENESS, NEITHER SHADOW OF TURNING' by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH TO HARTLEY COLERIDGE; SIX YEARS OLD by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH NARCISSUS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES THE RING AND THE BOOK: BOOK 3. THE OTHER HALF-ROME by ROBERT BROWNING |