My Blood Sings in the Breeze
There’s sunshine in the heart of me,
My blood sings in the breeze;
The mountains are a part of me,
I”m fellow to the trees.
My golden youth I’m squandering,
Sun-libertine am I;
A wandering, a-wandering,
Until the day I die.
To pitch my tent with no prosy plan,
To range and change at will;
To mock the mastership of man,
To seek adventure’s thrill.
To scorn all strife, and to view all life
with the curious eyes of a child:
From the plangent sea to the prairie,
From the slum to the heart of the Wild.
-Robert Service [selections from “A Rolling Stone”]
When did Robert Service meet you?
Chuck Peters said this on December 28, 2009 at 10:30 pm