Vagrants (by Paul Laurence Dunbar)

Paul Laurence Dunbar
Paul Laurence Dunbar, 1872-1906
(Dayton, Ohio)

Vagrants

Long time ago, we two set out,
    My soul and I.
    I know not why,
For all our way was dim with doubt.
    I know not where
    We two may fare:
Though still with every changing weather,
We wander, groping on together.

We do not love, we are not friends,
    My soul and I.
    He lives a lie;
Untruth lines every way he wends.
    A scoffer be
    Who jeers at me:
And so, my comrade and my brother,
We wander on and hate each other.

Ay, there be taverns and to spare,
    Beside the road;
    But some strange goad
Lets me not stop to taste their fare.
    Knew I the goal
    Toward which my soul
And I made way, hope made life fragrant:
But no. We wander, aimless, vagrant!


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