Prelude

AS one, at midnight, wakened by the call

Of golden-plovers in their seaward flight,

Who lies and listens, as the clear notes fall

Through tingling silence of the frosty night—

Who lies and listens, till the last note fails,

And then, in fancy, faring with the flock

Far over slumbering hills and dreaming dales,

Soon hears the surges break on reef and rock;

And, hearkening, till all sense of self is drowned

Within the mightier music of the deep,

No more remembers the sweet piping sound

That startled him from dull, undreaming sleep;

So I, first waking from oblivion, heard,

With heart that kindled to the call of song,

The voice of young life, fluting like a bird,

And echoed that light lilting; till, ere long,

Lured onward by that happy, singing-flight,

I caught the stormy summons of the sea,

And dared the restless deeps that, day and night,

Surge with the life-song of humanity.