Yet are they here the same unbroken knot <br />Of human Beings, in the self-same spot! <br />Men, women, children, yea the frame <br />Of the whole spectacle the same! <br />Only their fire seems bolder, yielding light, <br />Now deep and red, the colouring of night; <br />That on their Gipsy-faces falls, <br />Their bed of straw and blanket-walls. <br />--Twelve hours, twelve bounteous hours are gone, while I <br />Have been a traveller under open sky, <br />Much witnessing of change and cheer, <br />Yet as I left I find them here! <br />The weary Sun betook himself to rest;-- <br />Then issued Vesper from the fulgent west, <br />Outshining like a visible God <br />The glorious path in which he trod. <br />And now, ascending, after one dark hour <br />And one night's diminution of her power, <br />Behold the mighty Moon! this way <br />She looks as if at them--but they <br />Regard not her:--oh better wrong and strife <br />(By nature transient) than this torpid life; <br />Life which the very stars reprove <br />As on their silent tasks they move! <br />Yet, witness all that stirs in heaven or earth! <br />In scorn I speak not;--they are what their birth <br />And breeding suffer them to be; <br />Wild outcasts of society!<br /><br />William Wordsworth<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/gipsies/
