A GYPSY’S LONGING
Reading edition
I’m hearing the words that you whisper so slow, The soft words of love that are tender and low, But oh! my wild heart is a-roaming the dale— My wild gypsy heart, that cares not for love’s tale. I’m seeing your eyes and the promise they hold Of the wealth of the world and the glitter of gold, But oh! my wet eyes that are straining to see The hills of the gypsies, the hills of the free! I’m touching your lips all aflame with desire, And my heart is a-pulsing so close to the fire— But oh! ’tis the hills that I’m wanting, my dear, The hills where I wandered that spring of the year.