Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE CALL by WILSON PUGSLEY MACDONALD

First Line: A GRAY WIND WAILS
Last Line: TO THE SURF OF THE LAST LONE SEA.
A GRAY wind wails
At the world's cold edge
And its song is all for me:
It calls me away
From the drab-hooded town
To the surf of the last lone sea.

A white cloud floats
With its empty car,
And it bids me mount and go
To the clean, sweet lands
Where the strong elks feed
At the milkless breasts of snow.

The town's voice sounds
Like a harlot's laugh,
But a virgin's blush is there.
And the great, gaunt rocks
Are a kinder couch
Than a woman's breast and hair.

The bitterns cry
At the world's cold edge,
But their notes are sweeter far
Than the warmest word
On a false maid's tongue
In the land where false things are.

A rude, brown hut
I will build some day
In that land of purple howers,
And my comrades shall be
The sky and the wind
And the cool, young heart of showers.

Gold rain runs there
Down a green, cold sea
And its feet are silver-shod;
And there's not a word
In the mouth of space
That mocks at the dream of God.

A gray wind wails
At the world's cold edge
And its song is all for me:
It calls me away
From the drab-hooded town
To the surf of the last lone sea.



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