" So for one the wet sail arching through the rainbow round the bow, 



And for one the creak of snow-shoes on the crust; 

 And for one the lakeside lilies where the bull-moose waits the cow, 



And for one the mule-train coughing in the dust. 

 Who hath smelt wood-smoke at twilight ? Who hath heard the 

 birch-log burning ? 



Who is quick to read the noises of the night ? 

 Let him follow with the others, for the Young Men's feet are turning 



To the camps of proved desire and known delight! 



" Let him go go go away from here I 



On the other side the world he's overdue. 



'Send your road is clear before you when the old spring-fret comes o'er 

 you 



And the Red Gods call for you ! " 



