Page:Poems, Meynell, 1921.djvu/83

 THE JOYOUS WANDERER

Translated from M. Catulle Mendès

GO by road, I go by street—

Lira, la, la!

O white high roads, ye know my feet!

A loaf I carry and, all told,

Three broad bits of lucky gold—

Lira, la, la!

And oh, within my flowering heart,

(Sing, dear nightingale!) is my Sweet.

A poor man met me and begged for bread—

Lira, la, la!

"Brother, take all the loaf," I said,

I shall but go with lighter cheer—

Lira, la, la!

And oh within my flowering heart

(Sing, sweet nightingale!) is my Dear.

A thief I met on the lonely way—

Lira, la, la!

He took my gold; I cried to him, "Stay!

And take my pocket and make an end."

Lira, la, la! 75