Swags Up!

  Swags up! and yet I turn upon the way.
  The yellow hill against a dapple sky,
  With tufts and clumps of thorn, the bush whereby
  All through the wonder-pregnant night I lay
  Until the silver stars were merged in grey
  Our fragrant camp, demand a parting sigh:
  New tracks, new camps, and hearts for ever high,
  Yet brief regret with every welcome day.
  Dear dreamy earth, receding flickering lamp,
  Dear dust wherein I found this night a home,
  Still for a memory’s sake I turn and cling,
  Then take the road for many a distant camp,
  Among what hills, by what pale whispering foam,
  With eager faith for ever wandering.