A poem for a rainy Saturday

Yesterday, while wandering the wilds of the Interwebz, I stumbled across this wonderful piece by Gerald Gould. Like Magee's High Flight or Masefield's Sea Fever, the words and the rhythm inspire a kind of pleasant restlessness. (All three poems also prompt a tear in the eye and a tightness in the throat, I've never been able to pin down why; perhaps because the wish to journey forth remains unfulfilled?) I think perhaps Bilbo might have appreciated it.


Beyond the East the sunrise, beyond the West the sea,
And East and West the wanderlust that will not let me be;
It works in me like madness, dear, to bid me say good-by!
For the seas call and the stars call, and oh, the call of the sky!

I know not where the white road runs, nor what the blue hills are,
But man can have the sun for friend, and for his guide a star;
And there's no end of voyaging when once the voice is heard,
For the river calls and the road calls, and oh, the call of a bird!

Yonder the long horizon lies, and there by night and day
The old ships draw to home again, the young ships sail away;
And come I may, but go I must, and if men ask you why,
You may put the blame on the stars and the sun and the white road and the sky!
-- Gerald Gould