 | The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman |  |
I
PRELUDE
A wind and a voice from the North!
A courier-wind sent forth
From the mountains to the sea:
A summons borne to me
From halls which the Muses haunt, from hills where the heart and the wind are free!
A courier-wind sent forth
From the mountains to the sea:
A summons borne to me
From halls which the Muses haunt, from hills where the heart and the wind are free!
“Come from the outer throng!”
(Such was the burden it bore,)
“Thou who hast gone before,
Hither! and sing us a song,
Far from the round of the town and the sound of the great world's roar!”
(Such was the burden it bore,)
“Thou who hast gone before,
Hither! and sing us a song,
Far from the round of the town and the sound of the great world's roar!”
O masterful voice of Youth,
That will have, like the upland wind, its own wild way!
O choral words, that with every season rise
Like the warblings of orchard-birds at break of day!
O faces, fresh with the light of morning skies!
No marvel world-worn toilers seek you here,
Even as they life renew, from year to year,
In woods and meadows lit with blossoming May;
But O, blithe voices, that have such sweet power,
Unto your high behest this summer hour
What answer has the poet? how shall he frame his lay?
That will have, like the upland wind, its own wild way!
O choral words, that with every season rise
Like the warblings of orchard-birds at break of day!
O faces, fresh with the light of morning skies!
No marvel world-worn toilers seek you here,
Even as they life renew, from year to year,
In woods and meadows lit with blossoming May;
But O, blithe voices, that have such sweet power,
153
What answer has the poet? how shall he frame his lay?
| The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman | |