Gypsy Bred

The wind is a-blow from the south to-day,
The river's a swirling flood,
The wind is tender and warm and gay^___
And my love has gypsy blood.

Restless she was within her sleep,
And waking crept too near.
The sky is brooding and blue and deep,
My heart is sick with fear.

Low in the west is a little witch-moon,
Leaf buds are edged with red;
Our home will be her prison soon^___
My love is gypsy bred.

^__Ida Lowry Sinclair

Contemporary Kansas Poetry
Helen Rhoda Hoopes
page 107
(Kansas City: Joseph D. Havens Company. 1927)