The Sojourner

I will arise and go; the wind is fain of me, The laughing wind that stirs my climbing rose; The tiny clusters nod and talk together, But what their secret may be, no one knows. I will arise and go; the wind is fain of me, The rose is heavy in the southern town, The wild geese travel northward in the mornings, The bold-eyed southern spring tears wide her gown. I will arise and go; the wind is fain of me, The last snow melts beneath the gray stone walls, The green young sedges fringe the river-margin, And in my heart the Northland calls and calls. I will arise and go; the wind is fain of me. Too long I wait in summer’s tasselled hall, Too long I dream amid the tulip blossoms, Too long I linger when I hear the call. I will arise and go to seek the mountains, I will return my playfellows to greet; Once more the open hills and the sweet meadow, Once more the virgin Northland’s lips to meet.