THE SPELL.

Stratford Evening Post, Volume XXXIV, Issue 49, 22 October 1912, Page 3

THE SPELL.

I never knew a rover But when he left the road— Though he found fame and fortune, And love in his abode— Would turn with eager longing To watch the clouds drift by, With something of a question, And something of a sigh. I never knew a rover Whose roving days were done, But that his heart grew restless At setting of the sun; Butt hat, when birds were flying Across he vaulted blue, His gaze was full of yearning To follow where they flew. I never knew a rover Who’d left the rover’s trail, But watched the trains that thundered And watched the,ships that sail; And seemed to feel a magic That sought to set him free— A luring of the roadway, A calling of the sea. I never knew a rover Who’d left the trails that call, But seemed to fret with springtime, And seemed to chafe with fall; But scanned the passing pilgrims Till wistful tears would start; For once a man’s a rover, He’s ever on at heart! Berton Braley.