Page:May-day and other pieces, Emerson, 1867.djvu/121

 THE ROMANY GIRL.

HE sun goes down, and with him takes

The coarseness of my poor attire;

The fair moon mounts, and aye the flame

Of Gypsy beauty blazes higher.

Pale Northern girls! you scorn our race;

You captives of your air-tight halls,

Wear out in-doors your sickly days,

But leave us the horizon walls.

And if I take you, dames, to task,

And say it frankly without guile,

Then you are Gypsies in a mask,

And I the lady all the while.