2018-08-01 - The Call by May Byron ================================== Heeding The Call I sleep, but my heart waketh--in dreams I go forth to you, Green uplands, gray downloads, that once and of old I knew; For the voice of my beloved is calling me soft and low, The south-wind, the sea-wind, that sang in the long ago. For the hills are curving their breasts, and lifting their lovely shoulders, Out there against the west, where the red of the sunset smoulders; And the plover's wail is keen, and the curlew's whistle is sharp, And the long dry grass is vibrant with the sound of an elfin harp. Now if you should meet a phantom that roams on the silent hill, In the dimness, the duskness, when shadowy paths grow chill, Whose head is filled with dew, and whose locks with the drops of the night-- You will know it is I a-seeking the heritage mine by right. For me, for me it has waited, through many an empty day, Of dry and dusty labours that squander one's life away-- The voice of my beloved is poignant above the din, Thrilling across the traffic where toilers go out and in. Call softer now, call fainter--drop down the a thread of sound, For by that thread I am fastened--in cords of love I am bound-- ... Green uplands, gray downloads, great hills that of old I knew, In a mystery none shall fathom, once more I am one with you! May Byron @Wikipedia tags: poem Tags ==== poem