Image from On This Deity


(From “More Songs From Vagabondia”)

Richard Hovey (1864-1900)

Whose furthest footstep never strayed
Beyond the village of his birth,
Is but a lodge for the night
In this old wayside inn of earth.

Tomorrow he shall take his pack,
And set out for the ways beyond,
On the old trail from star to star,
An alien and a vagabond.

If any record of our names
Be blown about the hills of time,
Let no one sunder us in death —
The man of paint, the man of rhyme.

Of all our good, of all our bad,
This one thing only is of worth —
We held the league of heart to heart
The only purpose of the earth.

Mason City Globe Gazette (Mason City, Iowa) Jul 24, 1929

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