Across the upland dim, down through the beckoning 
     
     hollow— 
     
    
   
   
    
     Oh, we go too far and fast for the feet of care to 
     
     follow! 
     
    

    
     The gypsy fire in our hearts for the wilderness wide 
     
     and luring; 
     
    

    
     Other loves may fail but this is great and enduring. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Other delights may pal], but the joy of the open never; 
     
    

    
     The charm of the silent places must win and hold us 
     
     forever; 
     
    

    
     Bondage of walls we leave with never a glance be- 
     
     hind us. 
     
    

    
     Under the lucent sky the delights of the rover shall find 
     
     us. 
     
    
   
   
    
     59