A Song of the Open Road

The old Earth-Mother calls us, And we hearken unto her cry, For we dare not question her bidding Lest we sicken and droop and die. The spirit of change is burning As a fever in heart and brain. In the ranks of the Free Companions We must take to the road again. We have lain in the tents of the dwellers; We have ta’en of their drink and food; We, that were weary, have slumbered, Have slumbered and found rest good. We have kissed the lips of their maidens, From their kin we have chosen our brides; But the summons has come from the Mother, And no one who hears it abides. We do the will of the Mother, We bow to the Word she sends, Though we know not whither we journey, Nor the goal where the journey ends. On the quest of the Strange Adventure We sally, hand-in-hand, As the men of the days nomadic When the hunter was lord in the land. The winds a-sweep through the forests Shall brace our souls for the march, The balm of the dews descending Shall chasten the heats that parch. Through vista of brakes entangled The stars shall guide, in the night, By day the sun shall quicken The pulse of our life’s delight. Ho! for the zest of travel, The wayfarer’s romance, The joy of the unexpected, The hope of the noble chance. We have girded our feet with sandals, We carry the pilgrim’s load. In the ranks of the Free Companions We take to the open road.