"A Vagabond Song"

A Vagabond Song

There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood--
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

The Scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry
Of bugles going by. 
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.

  There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name. 

- Bliss Carmen


My Life As A Single said...

Will you put some of your own writing on your blog?? I'd love to see it.

Running to Standstill said...

I liked the last stanza most. There is something almost mocking in the way the colors show through the windows into your eyes when you're not outside.... the gypsy call, indeed. The colors taunt you. Well at least it semms thus, to me. -RtS

Rosie Rose said...

That's really pretty. And, were I to have read it somewhere else, it still would've made me think of you.