FOLLOW on the track of the west wind, seaward swinging; All the winds of all the world are rushing to the sea; And the year is lean and shrivelled, and the birds have ceased their singing, But the east wind, and the west wind, they call to you and me. High of heart and fierce of mood, keen-souled and rebel-hearted, Through struggling waves, and roaring tides, and gulfs of shining foam We will sail those secret sea-ways which no keel has ever parted— Oh! hard shall be our portion, but we'll never more come home. Never more come home, till the winds are tired of battle, Hanging weary pinions, storm-draggled, wet with rain; Then we'll gather in the harvest, and we'll watch the sheep and cattle, And card the wool, and feed the flocks, and live with you again; But the ships are straining seaward where the winds have flown before us— (Laughing high amid the clouds, they called us as they flew.) Can we pause then, can we linger, when the winds and seas implore us? Oh! when the winds turn home again we'll come again to you. |