A Vagabond Song

 

         There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
         Touch of manner, hint of mood;
         And my heart is like a rhyme,
         With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.

This is the first stanza of “A Vagabond Song” by Canadian poet Bliss Carmen. I have loved this poem since I was a child roaming the hills of West Virginia, and I think of it—along with several others—every fall. The last stanza goes like this:

There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;
We must rise and follow her,
When from every hill of flame
She calls and calls each vagabond by name.

 I don’t know if it’s the subtle influence of this poem I’ve known most of my life or some other force, but I do get a wanderlust in the fall, when the idea of packing up the car and taking off seems so appealing. This week I’ve been thinking about that restlessness and the source of it. Am I not supposed to be content? Shouldn’t I have peace in my circumstances? Why this vague uneasiness?

One thing we know for sure: This world was not made to last forever. When John speaks of “a new heaven and a new earth” in Revelation, he does not seem to be speaking figuratively. Indeed, we can see things wearing out and winding down all around us, and—while I am heartily in favor of caring for the earth all we can—we are wise not to get too attached. (That’s a hard one for me.)

In more than one place in the Bible, believers are referred to as “strangers and pilgrims” (KJV). Hebrews 11:13 and I Peter 2:11 are perhaps the most notable. I am passing through this world. Remember the old song? This world is not my home; I’m just a-passing through. Since we are actually vagabonds on earth, perhaps a certain restlessness is appropriate.

The final chapter of Hebrews, which is essentially a list of admonitions, includes this meaningful verse: “For here we have no continuing city, but we seek the one to come” (NKJV). That is, we don’t have a lasting home here on earth; we are waiting for our eternal home in heaven. When I was in college and weary with moving from the dorm to home and back again, this verse was a true comfort to me, and it’s one I can cling to now as well.

As much as I love the mountains and the fields and my own back yard, this world is not my real home. Autumn reminds me that the beauty of this earth is passing. I am so thankful for the prospect of an eternal home that will not fade.

--Sherry Poff