The Feet of the Young Men

Now the Four-way Lodge is opened, now the Hunting Winds are loose —
Now the Smokes of Spring go up to clear the brain;
Now the Young Men's hearts are troubled for the whisper of the Trues,
Now the Red Gods make their medicine again!
Who hath seen the beaver busied? Who hath watched the black-tail mating?
Who hath lain alone to hear the wild-goose cry?
Who hath worked the chosen water where the ouananiche is waiting,
Or the sea-trout's jumping-crazy for the fly?

        He must go—go–go away from here!
        On the other side the world he's overdue.
        'Send your road is clear before you when the old Spring-fret comes o'er you,
        And the Red Gods call for you!

So for one the wet sail arching through the rainbow round the bow,
And for one the creak of snow-shoes on the crust;
And for one the lakeside lilies where the bull-moose waits the cow,
And for one the mule-train coughing in the dust.
Who hath smelt wood-smoke at twilight? Who hath heard the birch-log burning?
Who is quick to read the noises of the night?
Let him follow with the others, for the Young Men's feet are turning
To the camps of proved desire and known delight!
       
         Let him  go—go, etc.
 
                                         I

Do you know the blackened timber — do you know that racing stream                                '
With the raw, right-angled log-jam at the end;
And the bar of sun-warmed shingle where a man may bask and dream
To the click of shod canoe-poles round the bend?
It is there that we are going with our rods and reels and traces,
To a silent, smoky Indian that we know —
To a couch of new-pulled hemlock, with the starlight on our faces,
For the Red Gods call us out and we must go!

        They must go—go, etc.
 
                                        II

Do you know the shallow Baltic where the seas are steep and short,
Where the bluff, lee-boarded fishing-luggers ride?
Do you know the joy of threshing leagues to leeward of your port
On a coast you've lost the chart of overside?
It is there that I am going, with an extra hand to bale her —
Just one able 'long-shore loafer that I know.
He can take his chance of drowning, while I sail and sail and sail her,
For the Red Gods call me out and I must go!
 
        He must go—go, etc.
   
                                       III

Do you know the pile-built village where the sago-dealers trade —
Do you know the reek of fish and wet bamboo?
Do you know the steaming stillness of the orchid-scented glade
When the blazoned, bird-winged butterflies flap through?
It is there that I am going with my camphor, net, and boxes,
To a gentle, yellow pirate that I know —
To my little wailing lemurs, to my palms and flying-foxes,
For the Red Gods call me out and I must go!
         
        He must go—go, etc.
  
                                       IV

Do you know the world's white roof-tree — do you know that windy rift
Where the baffling mountain-eddies chop and change?
Do you know the long day's patience, belly-down on frozen drift,
While the head of heads is feeding out of range?
It is there that I am going, where the boulders and the snow lie,
With a trusty, nimble tracker that I know.
I have sworn an oath, to keep it on the Horns of Ovis Poli,
And the Red Gods call me out and I must go!
 
        He must go—go, etc.

Now the Four-way Lodge is opened — now the Smokes of Council rise —
Pleasant smokes, ere yet 'twixt trail and trail they choose —
Now the girths and ropes are tested: now they pack their last supplies:
Now our Young Men go to dance before the Trues!
Who shall meet them at those altars — who shall light them to that shrine?
Velvet-footed, who shall guide them to their goal?
Unto each the voice and vision: unto each his spoor and sign —
Lonely mountain in the Northland, misty sweat-bath 'neath the Line —
And to each a man that knows his naked soul!

White or yellow, black or copper, he is waiting, as a lover,
Smoke of funnel, dust of hooves, or beat of train —
Where the high grass hides the horseman or the glaring flats discover —
Where the steamer hails the landing, or the surf-boat brings the rover —
Where the rails run out in sand-rift... Quick! ah, heave the camp-kit over,  
For the Red Gods make their medicine again!

         And we go—go—go away from here!
         On the other side the world we're overdue!
        'Send the road is clear before you when the old Spring-fret comes o'er you,
        And the Red Gods call for you!

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The Fall of Jock Gillespie

1 
This fell when dinner-time was done—
      ’Twixt the first an’ the second rub—
That oor mon Jock cam’ hame again
     To his rooms ahint the Club. 
2 
An’ syne he laughed, an’ syne he sang,
     An’ syne we thocht him fou,
An’ syne he trumped his partner’s trick,
      An’ garred his partner rue. 
3 
Then up and spake an elder mon,
     That held the Spade its Ace—
God save the lad! Whence comes the licht
     “That wimples on his face?” 
4 
An’ Jock he sniggered, an’ Jock he smiled,
      An’ ower the card-brim wunk:—
“I’m a’ too fresh fra’ the stirrup-peg,
      “May be that I am drunk.” 
5 
“There’s whusky brewed in Galashils
      “An’ L.L.L. forbye;
“But never liquor lit the lowe
      “That keeks fra’ oot your eye. 
6 
“There’s a thrid o’ hair on your dress-coat breast,
       “Aboon the heart a wee?”
“Oh! that is fra’ the lang-haired Skye
     “That slobbers ower me.” 
7 
“Oh! lang-haired Skyes are lovin’ beasts,
      “An’ terrier dogs are fair,
“But never yet was terrier born,
      “Wi’ ell-lang gowden hair! 
8 
“There’s a smirch o’ pouther on your breast,
      “Below the left lappel?”
“Oh! that is fra’ my auld cigar,
      “Whenas the stump-end fell.” 
9 
“Mon Jock, ye smoke the Trichi coarse,
      “For ye are short o’ cash,
“An’ best Havanas Couldna leave
       “Sae white an’ pure an ash. 
10 
“This nicht ye stopped a story braid,
       “An’ stopped it wi’ a curse.
“Last nicht ye told that tale yoursel’—
      “An’ capped it wi' a worse! 
11 
“Oh! we’re no fou! Oh! we’re no fou!
       “But plainly we can ken
“Ye’re fallin’, fallin’ fra the band
      “O’ cantie single men!” 
12 
An’ it fell when sirris-shaws were sere,
      An’ the nichts were lang and mirk,
In braw new breeks, wi’ a gowden ring,
     Or Jocke gaed to the Kirk!

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The Fabulists

When all the world would keep a matter hid,
  Since Truth is seldom friend to any crowd,
Men write in fable, as old Æsop did,
  Jesting at that which none will name aloud.
And this they needs must do, or it will fall
Unless they please they are not heard at all 

When desperate Folly daily laboureth
  To work confusion upon all we have,
When diligent Sloth demandeth Freedom’s death,
   And banded Fear commandeth Honour’s grave—
Even in that certain hour before the fall
Unless men please they are not heard at all. 

Needs must all please, yet some not all for need,
  Needs must all toil, yet some not all for gain,
But that men taking pleasure may take heed,
  Whom present toil shall snatch from later pain.
Thus some have toiled but their reward was small
Since, though they pleased, they were not heard at all. 

This was the lock that lay upon our lips,
  This was the yoke that we have undergone,
Denying us all pleasant fellowships
   As in our time and generation.
Our pleasures unpursued age past recall.
And for our pains—we are not heard at all. 

What man hears aught except the groaning guns?
  What man heeds aught save what each instant brings?
When each man’s life all imaged life outruns,
  What man shall pleasure in imaginings?
So it hath fallen, as it was bound to fall,
We are not, nor we were not, heard at all.

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The Explorer

1
"There's no sense in going further - it's the edge of cultivation," 
  So they said, and I believed it - broke my land and sowed my crop -
Built my barns and strung my fences in the little border station 
  Tucked away below the foothills where the trails run out and stop:
2
Till a voice, as bad as Conscience, rang interminable changes 
  On one everlasting Whisper day and night repeated - so:
"Something hidden.  Go and find it. Go and look behind the Ranges - 
"Something lost behind the Ranges. Lost and waiting for you. Go!"
3
So I went, worn out of patience; never told my nearest neighbours -
  Stole away with pack and ponies - left 'em drinking in the town;
And the faith that moveth mountains didn't seem to help my labours
  As I faced the sheer main-ranges, whipping up and leading down.
4
March by march I puzzled through 'em, turning flanks and dodging shoulders,
  Hurried on in hope of water, headed back for lack of grass;
Till I camped above the tree-line - drifted snow and naked boulders - 
  Felt free air astir to windward - knew I'd stumbled on the Pass.
5
'Thought to name it for the finder: but that night the Norther found me -
  Froze and killed the plains-bred ponies; so I called the camp Despair
(It's the Railway Gap to-day, though). Then my Whisper waked to hound me: -
  "Something lost behind the Ranges.  Over yonder! Go you there!"
6
Then I knew, the while I doubted - knew His Hand was certain o'er me. 
  Still - it might be self-delusion - scores of better men had died -
I could reach the township living, but ... He knows what terror tore me...
  But I didn't... but I didn't. I went down the other side.
7
Till the snow ran out in flowers, and the flowers turned to aloes,
  And the aloes sprung to thickets and a brimming stream ran by;
But the thickets dwined to thorn-scrub, and the water drained to shallows,
  And I dropped again on desert - blasted earth, and blasting sky....
8
I remember lighting fires; I remember sitting by 'em;
  I remember seeing faces, hearing voices, through the smoke;
I remember they were fancy - for I threw a stone to try 'em.
  "Something lost behind the Ranges" was the only word they spoke.
9
I remember going crazy. I remember that I knew it
When I heard myself hallooing to the funny folk I saw.
'Very full of dreams that desert, but my two legs took me through it... 
And I used to watch 'em moving with the toes all black and raw.
10
But at last the country altered - White Man's country past disputing -
  Rolling grass and open timber, with a hint of hills behind -
There I found me food and water, and I lay a week recruiting.
  Got my strength and lost my nightmares.  Then I entered on my find.
11
Thence I ran my first rough survey - chose my trees and blazed and ringed 'em -
  Week by week I pried and sampled - week by week my findings grew.
Saul he went to look for donkeys, and by God he found a kingdom !
  But by God, who sent His Whisper, I had struck the worth of two ! 
12
Up along the hostile mountains, where the hair-poised snowslide shivers - 
  Down and through the big fat marshes that the virgin ore-bed stains,
Till I heard the mile-wide mutterings of unimagined rivers,
  And beyond the nameless timber saw illimitable plains ! 
13
'Plotted sites of future cities, traced the easy grades between 'em;
  Watched unharnessed rapids wasting fifty thousand head an hour;
Counted leagues of water-frontage through the axe-ripe woods that screen 'em -
  Saw the plant to feed a people - up and waiting for the power!
14
Well, I know who'll take the credit - all the clever chaps that followed -
  Came, a dozen men together - never knew my desert-fears;
Tracked me by the camps I'd quitted, used the water-holes I hollowed.
  They'll go back and do the talking. They'll be called the Pioneers !
15
They will find my sites of townships - not the cities that I set there.
  They will rediscover rivers - not my rivers heard at night.
By my own old marks and bearings they will show me how to get there,
  By the lonely cairns I builded they will guide my feet aright.
16
Have I named one single river? Have I claimed one single acre ? 
  Have I kept one single nugget - (barring samples)? No, not I !
Because my price was paid me ten times over by my Maker.
  But you wouldn't understand it. You go up and occupy.
17
Ores you'll find there; wood and cattle; water-transit sure and steady 
  (That should keep the railway rates down), coal and iron at your doors.
God took care to hide that country till He judged His people ready,
  Then He chose me for His Whisper, and I've found it, and it's yours !
18
Yes, your "Never-never country" - yes, your "edge of cultivation" 
  And "no sense in going further" - till I crossed the range to see.
God forgive me! No, I didn't. It's God's present to our nation.
 Anybody might have found it, but - His Whisper came to Me! 

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The Explanation

Love and Death once ceased their strife
At the Tavern of Man’s Life.
Called for wine, and threw—alas!—
Each his quiver on the grass.
When the bout was o’er they found
Mingled arrows strewed the ground.
Hastily they gathered then
Each the loves and lives of men.
Ah, the fateful dawn deceived!
Mingled arrows each one sheaved.
Death’s dread armoury was stored
With the shafts he most abhorred;
Love’s light quiver groaned beneath
Venom-headed darts of Death.
Thus it was they wrought our woe
At the Tavern long ago.
Tell me, do our masters know,
Loosing blindly as they fly,
Old men love while young men die?

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The Expert

Youth that trafficked long with Death,
  And to second life returns,
Squanders little time or breath
  On his fellow-man’s concerns.
Earnèd peace is all he asks
To fulfil his broken tasks. 

Yet, if he find war at home
  (Waspish and importunate),
He hath means to overcome
  Any warrior at his gate;
For the past he buried brings
Back unburiable things— 

Nights that he lay out to spy
  Whence and when the raid might start;
Or prepared in secrecy
  Sudden Things to break its heart—
All the lore of No-Man’s Land
Moves his soul and arms his hand. 

So, if conflict vex his life
  Where he thought all conflict done,
He, resuming ancient strife,
  Springs his mine or trains his gun,
And, in mirth more dread than wrath,
Wipes the nuisance from his path!

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The English Way

1 
After the fight at Otterburn,
    "Before the ravens came,
The Witch-wife rode across the fern
   And spoke Earl Percy’s name. 
2 
“Stand up—stand up, Northumberland!
    I bid you answer true,
If England’s King has under his hand
    A Captain as good as you?” 
3 
Then up and spake the dead Percy—
   Oh, but his wound was sore!
“Five hundred Captains as good,” said he,
   “And I trow five hundred more. 
4 
“But I pray you by the lifting skies,
    And the young wind over the grass,
That you take your eyes from off my eyes,
   And let my spirit pass.” 
5 
“Stand up—stand up, Northumberland!
   I charge you answer true,
If ever you dealt in steel and brand,
    How went the fray with you?” 
6 
“Hither and yon,” the Percy said;
     “As every fight must go;
For some they fought and some they fled,
    And some struck ne’er a blow. 
7 
“But I pray you by the breaking skies,
    And the first call from the nest,
That you turn your eyes away from my eyes,
   And let me to my rest.” 
8 
“Stand up—stand up, Northumberland!
   I will that you answer true,
If you and your men were quick again,
   How would it be with you?” 
9 
“Oh, we would speak of hawk and hound,
    And the red deer where they rove,
And the merry foxes the country round,
    And the maidens that we love. 
10 
“We would not speak of steel or steed,
     Except to grudge the cost;
And he that had done the doughtiest deed
   Would mock himself the most. 
11 
“But I pray you by my keep and tower,
   And the tables in my hall,
And I pray you by my lady’s bower
   (Ah, bitterest of all!) 
12 
“That you lift your eyes from outen my eyes,
   Your hand from off my breast,
And cover my face from the red sun-rise,
    And loose me to my rest!” 
13 
She has taken her eyes from out of his eyes—
   Her palm from off his breast,
And covered his face from the red sun-rise,
   And loosed him to his rest. 
14 
“Sleep you, or wake, Northumberland—
   You shall not speak again,
And the word you have said ’twixt quick and dead
     I lay on Englishmen. 
15 
“So long as Severn runs to West
    Or Humber to the East,
That they who bore themselves the best
   Shall count themselves the least. 
16 
“While there is fighting at the ford,
   Or flood along the Tweed,
That they shall choose the lesser word
   To cloke the greater deed. 
17 
“After the quarry and the kill—
    The fair fight and the fame—
With an ill face and an ill grace
   Shall they rehearse the same. 
18 
“’Greater the deed, greater the need
     Lightly to laugh it away,
Shall be the mark of the English breed
    Until the Judgment Day!”

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The English Flag

Above the portico a flag-staff, bearing the Union Jack, remained fluttering
in the flames for some time, but ultimately when it fell the crowds rent the
air with shouts, and seemed to see significance in the incident.
— DAILY PAPERS.

1
Winds of the World, give answer! They are whimpering to and fro—
And what should they know of England who only England know?—
The poor little street-bred people that vapour and fume and brag,
They are lifting their heads in the stillness to yelp at the English Flag! 
2
Must we borrow a clout from the Boer—to plaster anew with dirt?
An Irish liar’s bandage, or an English coward’s shirt?
We may not speak of England; her Flag’s to sell or share.
What is the Flag of England? Winds of the World, declare! 
3
The North Wind blew:—“From Bergen my steel-shod vanguards go;
I chase your lazy whalers home from the Disko floe;
By the great North Lights above me I work the will of God,
And the liner splits on the ice-field or the Dogger fills with cod. 
4
“I barred my gates with iron, I shuttered my doors with flame,
Because to force my ramparts your nutshell navies came;
I took the sun from their presence, I cut them down with my blast,
And they died, but the Flag of England blew free ere the spirit passed. 
5
“The lean white bear hath seen it in the long, long Arctic night,
The musk-ox knows the standard that flouts the Northern Light:
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my bergs to dare,
Ye have but my drifts to conquer. Go forth, for it is there!” 
6
The South Wind sighed:—“From the Virgins my mid-sea course was ta’en
Over a thousand islands lost in an idle main,
Where the sea-egg flames on the coral and the long-backed breakers croon
Their endless ocean legends to the lazy, locked lagoon. 
7
“Strayed amid lonely islets, mazed amid outer keys,
I waked the palms to laughter—I tossed the scud in the breeze—
Never was isle so little, never was sea so lone,
But over the scud and the palm-trees an English flag was flown. 
8
“I have wrenched it free from the halliard to hang for a wisp on the Horn;
I have chased it north to the Lizard—ribboned and rolled and torn;
I have spread its fold o’er the dying, adrift in a hopeless sea;
I have hurled it swift on the slaver, and seen the slave set free. 
9
“My basking sunfish know it, and wheeling albatross,
Where the lone wave fills with fire beneath the Southern Cross.
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my reefs to dare,
Ye have but my seas to furrow. Go forth, for it is there!” 
10
The East Wind roared:—“From the Kuriles, the Bitter Seas, I come,
And me men call the Home-Wind, for I bring the English home.
Look—look well to your shipping! By the breath of my mad typhoon
I swept your close-packed Praya and beached your best at Kowloon! 
11
“The reeling junks behind me and the racing seas before,
I raped your richest roadstead—I plundered Singapore!
I set my hand on the Hoogli; as a hooded snake she rose,
And I flung your stoutest steamers to roost with the startled crows. 
12
“Never the lotus closes, never the wild-fowl wake,
But a soul goes out on the East Wind that died for England’s sake—
Man or woman or suckling, mother or bride or maid—
Because on the bones of the English the English Flag is stayed. 
13
“The desert-dust hath dimmed it, the flying wild-ass knows,
The scared white leopard winds it across the taintless snows.
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my sun to dare,
Ye have but my sands to travel. Go forth, for it is there!” 
14
The West Wind called:—“In squadrons the thoughtless galleons fly
That bear the wheat and cattle lest street-bred people die.
They make my might their porter, they make my house their path,
Till I loose my neck from their rudder and whelm them all in my wrath. 
15
“I draw the gliding fog-bank as a snake is drawn from the hole,
They bellow one to the other, the frighted ship-bells toll,
For day is a drifting terror till I raise the shroud with my breath,
And they see strange bows above them and the two go locked to death. 
16
“But whether in calm or wrack-wreath, whether by dark or day,
I heave them whole to the conger or rip their plates away,
First of the scattered legions, under a shrieking sky,
Dipping between the rollers, the English Flag goes by. 
17
“The dead dumb fog hath wrapped it—the frozen dews have kissed—
The naked stars have seen it, a fellow-star in the mist.
What is the Flag of England? Ye have but my breath to dare,
Ye have but my waves to conquer. Go forth, for it is there!”

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The Egg-Shell

The wind took off with the sunset—
The fog came up with the tide,
When the Witch of the North took an Egg-shell
With a little Blue Devil inside.
“Sink,” she said, “or swim,” she said,
“It’s all you will get from me.
And that is the finish of him!” she said,
And the Egg-shell went to sea. 

The wind fell dead with the midnight—
The fog shut down like a sheet,
When the Witch of the North heard the Egg-shell
Feeling by hand for a fleet.
“Get!” she said, “or you’re gone,” she said,
But the little Blue Devil said “No!”
“The sights are just coming on,” he said,
And he let the Whitehead go. 

The wind got up with the morning—
The fog blew off with the rain,
When the Witch of the North saw the Egg-shell
And the little Blue Devil again.
“Did you swim?” she said. “Did you sink?” she said,
And the little Blue Devil replied:
“For myself I swam, but I think,” he said,
“There’s somebody sinking outside.”

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The Earth gave up her dead…

The Earth gave up her dead that tide, 
  Into our camp he came,
And said his say and went his way, 
  And left our hearts aflame.

Keep tally—on the gun-butt score 
  The vengeance we must take
When God shall bring full reckoning 
  For our dead comrade's sake!

                                         Ballad

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