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”]

~ by Scott Hamilton Peters on December 26, 2009.