The Call of the Wind.
Joseph Mills Hanson. The Overland Monthly, 1905.
(Oh, wind of the West, so free!)
With the scent of the plains on it’s heaving breast.
(Oh, plains that I no more see!)
It cries through the smoky and roaring town
Of the tossing grass and the hillsides brown
Where the cattle graze as the sun goes down.
(Oh, sun on the prairie sea!)
And this is the call that the West wind sings,
(Oh, call of the wind, have done!)
That the worth of life is the joy it brings.
(Oh, joy that is never won!)
That the stainless sky and the virgin sod
Hold richer wealth, of the peace of God,
Than the streets where the weary toilers plod.
(Oh, streets that the heart would shun!)
But wind of the West, in vain thy voice,
(Oh, why must the voice be vain?)
If joy were all, ‘twere an easy choice.
(Oh, choice that is fraught with pain!)
The road of life is a hard, hard way,
But yet, if we hold to the path, it may
Lead back to the land of dreams some day.
(Yes, back to the plains again!)