A Day in the Open

Ho, a day Whereon we may up and away, With a fetterless wind that is out on the downs, And there piping a call to the fallow and shore, Where the sea evermore Surgeth over the gray reef, and drowns The fierce rocks with white foam; It is ours with untired feet to roam Where the pines in green gloom of wide vales make their murmuring home, Or the pools that the sunlight hath kissed Mirror back a blue sky that is winnowed of cloud and of mist! Ho, a day Whereon we may up and away Through the orient distances hazy and pied, Hand in hand with the gypsying breezes that blow Here and there, to and fro, O'er the meadows all rosy and wide, Where a lyric of flowers Is sweet-sung to the frolicking hours, And the merry buds letter the foot-steps of tip-toeing showers; We may climb where the steep is beset With a turbulent waterfall, loving to clamor and fret! Ho, a day Whereon we may up and away To the year that is holding her cup of wild wine; If we drink we shall be as the gods of the wold In the blithe days of old Elate with a laughter divine; Yea, and then we shall know The rare magic of solitude so We shall nevermore wish its delight and its dreams to forego, And our blood will upstir and upleap With a fellowship splendid, a gladness impassioned and deep!