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.