The Wander-Lovers

Down the world with Marna! That ’s the life for me! Wandering with the wandering wind, Vagabond and unconfined! Roving with the roving rain Its unboundaried domain! Kith and kin of wander-kind, Children of the sea! Petrels of the sea-drift! Swallows of the lea! Arabs of the whole wide girth Of the wind-encircled earth! In all climes we pitch our tents, Cronies of the elements, With the secret lords of birth Intimate and free. All the seaboard knows us From Fundy to the Keys; Every bend and every creek Of abundant Chesapeake; Ardise hills and Newport coves And the far-off orange groves, Where Floridian oceans break, Tropic tiger seas. Down the world with Marna, Tarrying there and here! Just as much at home in Spain As in Tangier or Touraine! Shakespeare’s Avon knows us well, And the crags of Neufchâtel; And the ancient Nile is fain Of our coming near. Down the world with Marna, Daughter of the air! Marna of the subtle grace, And the vision in her face! Moving in the measure trod By the angels before God! With her sky-blue eyes amaze And her sea-blue hair! Marna with the trees’ life In her veins a-stir! Marna of the aspen heart Where the sudden quivers start! Quick-responsive, subtle, wild! Artless as an artless child, Spite of all her reach of art! Oh, to roam with her! Marna with the wind’s will, Daughter of the sea! Marna of the quick disdain, Starting at the dream of stain! At a smile with love aglow, At a frown a statued woe, Standing pinnacled in pain Till a kiss sets free! Down the world with Marna, Daughter of the fire! Marna of the deathless hope, Still alert to win new scope Where the wings of life may spread For a flight unhazarded! Dreaming of the speech to cope With the heart’s desire! Marna of the far quest After the divine! Striving ever for some goal Past the blunder-god’s control! Dreaming of potential years When no day shall dawn in fears! That ’s the Marna of my soul, Wander-bride of mine!

Collection: 

More from Poet

  • A Fragment [May 1, 1898] BY Cavité on the bay ’T was the Spanish squadron lay; And the red dawn was creeping O’er the city that lay sleeping To the east, like a bride, in the May. There was peace at Manila, In the May morn at Manila,— When ho, the Spanish admiral Awoke to find our line Had...

  • Passion and pain, the outcry of despair, The pang of the unattainable desire, And youth’s delight in pleasures that expire, And sweet high dreamings of the good and fair Clashing in swift soul-storm, through which no prayer Uplifted stays the destined death-stroke dire. Then through a...

  • A Fragment I WILL go out to grass with that old King, For I am weary of clothes and cooks. I long to lie along the banks of brooks, And watch the boughs above me sway and swing. Come, I will pluck off custom’s livery, Nor longer be a lackey to old Time, Time shall serve me, and at my feet shall...

  • When I am standing on a mountain crest, Or hold the tiller in the dashing spray, My love of you leaps foaming in my breast, Shouts with the winds and sweeps to their foray; My heart bounds with the horses of the sea, And plunges in the wild ride of the night, Flaunts in the teeth of tempest the...

  • Voices of Unseen Spirits HERE falls no light of sun nor stars; No stir nor striving here intrudes; No moan nor merry-making mars The quiet of these solitudes. Submerged in sleep, the passive soul Is one with all the things that seem; Night blurs in one confusëd whole Alike the dreamer...