Clinton Scollard

Wild Geese

  Along the ocean's shingly edge,
    Athwart the turquoise sweep of sky,
  The wild geese in a winged wedge
    Go darkling by.

  From far lagoons be-plumed with palm,
    By cove and cape, by bluff and bay,
  Through depths of storm, through vasts of calm,
    They speed their way.

  The pharos flashes on their flight;
    They do not heed its beckoning beam;
  The great North, stretching weird and white,
    Lures like a dream;

  Lures, and they answer to the call;
    Charms, and they yield them to the spell,
  Moved ever by a subtle thrall
    Inscrutable.

  Do you not feel it, comrade, too,
    The inescapable delight,
  The mounting rapture, that bids you
    Take vernal flight?