IMITATED AFTER RENATO RINALDI'S " IL GIROVAGO "

A RAGGED , sweet little fellow
Slips — Heaven knows whence — into view,
Jestingly greets me his mellow,
" What's new? "
— " What's new? Not a thing. Tranquil
I leave things as they are,
And the words and the song gush upward
The same as ever they were. "

There's a door where I make a great clatter —
Hands in pockets — kick fair;
Cries a voice — I know well its chatter —
" Who's there? "
— " Same as ever to-day 'tis —
Drinks the fountain, and goes on his way —
Up the peaks, o'er the rise, he is going —
Every night he turns into day. "

On the highroad a plough-bound peasant
Is fixing his ox-gear anew,
And, passing, he hails me pleasant,
" Where to? "
— " Where to? I don't know. The road only
So long is the guide of my feet.
I go. I don't ask. My country?
'Tis the world — 'tis tranquil and sweet. "

Through wayside and town I sing trolling,
And some pitiful heart among men
Asks low, as the song goes rolling,
" Till when? "
— " Till when? Always. Take heart.
Men's doors still open to me.
Always. Till on my worn pathway
Death comes, with a grin, to see. "