But half of me is woman grown; The other half is child.But half my heart loves quiet ways; The other half is wild.And so to hear your gypsy song I dare not come again;To-morrow, when the twilight falls, Your voice will lure in vain.
For all of you is vagabond And all of you is free;Your feet roam still the winding trails That now are strange to me.My gypsy feet are captive held Within a garden-spaceSince I renounced the whole wide world For one belovèd face.
