The April world is misted with emerald and gold; The meadow larks are calling sweet and keen; Gypsy-heart is up and off for woodland and for wold, Roaming, roaming, roaming through the green. Gypsy-heart, away! Oh, the wind - the wind and sun! Take the blithe adventure of the fugitive today; Youth will soon be done. From buds that May is kissing there trembles forth a soul; The rosy boughs are whispering the white; Gypsy-heart is heedless now of thrush and oriole Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming of delight Gypsy-heart beware! Oh, the song - the song in the blood! Magic walks the forest; there's bewitchment on the air. Spring is at the flood. The wings of June are woven of fragrance and of fire; Heap roses, crimson roses for her throne. Gypsy-heart is anguished with tumultuous desire, Seeking, seeking, seeking for its own. Gypsy-heart, abide! Oh, the far - the far is the near! 'Tis a foolish fable that the universe is wide. All the world is here.
English Poetry - http://eng-poetry.ru/english/index.php. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org