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Robert W Service - A Rolling StoneRobert W Service - A Rolling Stone
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There`s sunshine in the heart of me, My blood sings in the breeze; The mountains are a part of me, I`m fellow to the trees. My golden youth I`m squandering, Sun-libertine am I; A-wandering, a-wandering, Until the day I die. I was once, I declare, a Stone-Age man,     And I roomed in the cool of a cave; I have known, I will swear, in a new life-span,     The fret and the sweat of a slave: For far over all that folks hold worth,     There lives and there leaps in me A love of the lowly things of earth,     And a passion to be free. To pitch my tent with no prosy plan,     To range and to change at will; To mock at the mastership of man,     To seek Adventure`s thrill. Carefree to be, as a bird that sings;     To go my own sweet way; To reck not at all what may befall,     But to live and to love each day. To make my body a temple pure     Wherein I dwell serene; To care for the things that shall endure,     The simple, sweet and clean. To oust out envy and hate and rage,     To breathe with no alarm; For Nature shall be my anchorage,     And none shall do me harm. To shun all lures that debauch the soul,     The orgied rites of the rich; To eat my crust as a rover must     With the rough-neck down in the ditch. To trudge by his side whate`er betide;     To share his fire at night; To call him friend to the long trail-end,     And to read his heart aright. To scorn all strife, and to view all life     With the curious eyes of a child; From the plangent sea to the prairie,     From the slum to the heart of the Wild. From the red-rimmed star to the speck of sand,     From the vast to the greatly small; For I know that the whole for good is planned,     And I want to see it all. To see it all, the wide world-way,     From the fig-leaf belt to the Pole; With never a one to say me nay,     And none to cramp my soul. In belly-pinch I will pay the price,     But God! let me be free; For once I know in the long ago,     They made a slave of me. In a flannel shirt from earth`s clean dirt,     Here, pal, is my calloused hand! Oh, I love each day as a rover may,     Nor seek to understand. To enjoy is good enough for me;     The gipsy of God am I; Then here`s a hail to each flaring dawn! And here`s a cheer to the night that`s gone! And may I go a-roaming on     Until the day I die! Then every star shall sing to me Its song of liberty; And every morn shall bring to me Its mandate to be free. In every throbbing vein of me I`ll feel the vast Earth-call; O body, heart and brain of me Praise Him who made it all!
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