Comes the lure of green things growing, <br />Comes the call of waters flowing - <br />And the wayfarer desire <br />Moves and wakes and would be going. <br /> <br />Hark the migrant hosts of June <br />Marching nearer noon by noon! <br />Hark the gossip of the grasses <br />Bivouacked beneath the moon! <br /> <br />Long the quest and far the ending <br />When my wayfarer is wending - <br />When desire is once afoot, <br />Doom behind and dream attending! <br /> <br />In his ears the phantom chime <br />Of incommunicable rhyme, <br />He shall chase the fleeting camp-fires <br />Of the Bedouins of Time. <br /> <br />Farer by uncharted ways, <br />Dumb as death to plaint or praise, <br />Unreturning he shall journey, <br />Fellow to the nights and days; <br /> <br />Till upon the outer bar <br />Stilled the moaning currents are, <br />Till the flame achieves the zenith, <br />Till the moth attains the star, <br /> <br />Till through laughter and through tears <br />Fair the final peace appears, <br />And about the watered pastures <br />Sink to sleep the nomad years!<br /><br />Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/afoot/
