Swags Up!

J. Le Gay Brereton

SWAGS up! and yet I turn upon the way.
    The yellow hill against a dapple sky,
    With tufts and clumps of thorn, the bush whereby
All through the wonder-pregnant night I lay
Until the silver stars were merged in grey
    —Our fragrant camp—demand a parting sigh:
    New tracks, new camps, and hearts for ever high,
Yet brief regret with every welcome day.

Dear dreamy earth, receding flickering lamp,
    Dear dust wherein I found this night a home,
        Still for a memory’s sake I turn and cling,
Then take the road for many a distant camp,
    Among what hills, by what pale whispering foam,
        With eager faith for ever wandering.

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