A Wanderer

WHEN Watkin shifts the burden of his cares
And all that irked him in his bound employ 
Once more become a vagrom-hearted boy 
He moves to roundelays and jocund airs;
Loitering with dusty harvestmen he shares 5
Old ale and sunshine; or with maids half-coy 
Pays court to shadows; fools himself with joy 
Shaking a leg at junketings and fairs.


Sometimes returning down his breezy miles 
A snatch of wayward April he will bring 10
Piping the daffodilly that beguiles
Foolhardy lovers in the surge of spring.

And then once more by lanes and field-path stiles
Up the green world he wanders like a king.

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