Vagabondia.

Off with the fetters     That chafe and restrain!     Off with the chain!     Here Art and Letters,     Music and wine,     And Myrtle and Wanda,     The winsome witches,     Blithely combine.     Here are true riches,     Here is Golconda,     Here are the Indies,     Here we are free--     Free as the wind is,     Free, as the sea.     Free!     Houp-la!     What have we     To do with the way     Of the Pharisee?     We go or we stay     At our own sweet will;     We think as we say,     And we say or keep still     At our own sweet will,     At our own sweet will.     Here we are free     To be good or bad,     Sane or mad,     Merry or grim     As the mood may be,--     Free as the whim     Of a spook on a spree,--     Free to be oddities,     Not mere commodities,     Stupid and salable,     Wholly available,     Ranged upon shelves;     Each with his puny form     In the same uniform,     Cramped and disabled;     We are not labelled,     We are ourselves.     Here is the real,     Here the ideal;     Laughable hardship     Met and forgot,     Glory of bardship--     World's bloom and world's blot;     The shock and the jostle,     The mock and the push,     But hearts like the throstle     A-joy in the bush;     Wits that would merrily     Laugh away wrong,     Throats that would verily     Melt Hell in Song.     What though the dimes be     Elusive as rhymes be,     And Bessie, with finger     Uplifted, is warning     That breakfast next morning     (A subject she's scorning)     Is mighty uncertain!     What care we? Linger     A moment to kiss--     No time's amiss     To a vagabond's ardor--     Thee finish the larder     And pull down the curtain.     Unless ere the kiss come,     Black Richard or Bliss come,     Or Tom with a flagon,     Or Karl with a jag on--     Then up and after     The joy of the night     With the hounds of laughter     To follow the flight     Of the fox-foot hours     That double and run     Through brakes and bowers     Of folly and fun.     With the comrade heart     For a moment's play,     And the comrade heart     For a heavier day,     And the comrade heart     Forever and aye.     For the joy of wine     Is not for long;     And the joy of song     Is a dream of shine;     But the comrade heart     Shall outlast art     And a woman's love     The fame thereof.     But wine for a sign     Of the love we bring!     And song for an oath     That Love is king!     And both, and both     For his worshipping!     Then up and away     Till the break of day,     With a heart that's merry,     And a Tom-and-Jerry,     And a derry-down-derry--     What's that you say.     You highly respectable     Buyers and sellers?     We should be decenter?     Not as we please inter     Custom, frugality,     Use and morality     In the delectable     Depths of wine-cellars?     Midnights of revel,     And noondays of song!     Is it so wrong?     Go to the Devil!     I tell you that we,     While you are smirking     And lying and shirking     life's duty of duties,     Honest sincerity,     We are in verity     Free!     Free to rejoice     In blisses and beauties!     Free as the voice     Of the wind as it passes!     Free as the bird     In the weft of the grasses!     Free as the word     Of the sun to the sea--     Free!