He was sitting on the doorstep as I went strolling by;
A lonely little beggar with a wistful, homesick eye—
And he wasn’t what you'd borrow, and he wasn’t what you'd steal,
But I guessed his heart was breaking, so I whistled him to heel.

They had stoned him through the city streets, and naught the city cared,
But I was heading outward, and the roads are sweeter shared,
So I took him for a comrade, and I whistled him away—
On the road to Vagabondia, that lies across the day!

Yellow dog he was; but bless you—he was just the chap for me!
For I'd rather have an inch of dog than miles of pedigree.
So we stole away together, on the road that has no end,
With a new-coined day to fling away and all the stars to spend!

Oh, to walk the road at morning, when the wind is blowing clean,
And the yellow daisies fling their gold across a world of green—
For the wind it heals the heartache, and the sun it dries the scars,
On the road to Vagabondia that lies beneath the stars.

'Twas the wonder of our going cast a spell about our feet—
And we walked because the world was young, because the way was sweet;
And we slept in wild-rose meadows by the little wayside farms,
Till the Dawn came up the highroad with the dead moon in her arms.

Oh, the Dawn it went before us through a shining lane of skies,
And the Dream was at our heartstrings, and the light was in our eyes,
And we made no boast of glory and we made no boast of birth,
On the road to Vagabondia that lies across the earth!


This poem is in the public domain.