Louis Untermeyer, ed. (1885–1977). Modern American Poetry. 1919.
Bliss Carman18611929A Vagabond Song
T
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.
Of bugles going by.
And my lonely spirit thrills
To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.