The Curse Of The Wandering Foot.

All hope of rest withdrawn me? -             What dread command hath put         This awful curse upon me -             The curse of the wandering foot!         Forward and backward and thither,             And hither and yon again -         Wandering ever!    And whither?             Answer them, God!    Amen.         The blue skies are far o'er me - -             The bleak fields near below:         Where the mother that bore me? -             Where her grave in the snow? -         Glad in her trough of a coffin -             The sad eyes frozen shut         That wept so often, often,             The curse of the wandering foot!         Here in your marts I care not             Whatsoever ye think.         Good folk many who dare not             Give me to eat and drink:         Give me to sup of your pity -             Feast me on prayers! - O ye,         Met I your Christ in the city             He would fare forth with me -         Forward and onward and thither,             And hither again and yon,         With milk for our drink together             And honey to feed upon -         Nor hope of rest withdrawn us,             Since the one Father put         The blessd curse upon us -             The curse of the wandering foot.