The Happy Wanderer

He is the happy wanderer, who goes
Singing upon his way, with eyes awake
To every scene, with ears alert to take
The sweetness of all sounds; who loves and knows
The secrets of the highway, and the rose
Holds fairer for the wounds the briars make;
Who welcomes rain, that he his thirst may slake,--
The sun, because it dries his dripping clothes;
Treasures experience beyond all store,
Careless if pain or pleasure he shall win,
So that his knowledge widens more and more
Ready each hour to worship or to sin;
Until tired, wise, content, he halts before
The sign o' the Grave, a cool and quiet inn.