The Call Poem by William Noel Hodgson

Ah! We have dwelt in Arcady long time
With sun and youth eternal round our ways
And in the magic of that golden clime
We loved the pageant of the passing days.

The wonderful white dawns of frost and flame
In winter, and the swift sun’s upward leap;
Or summer’s stealthy wakening that came
Soft as a whisper on the lips of sleep.

And there were woodland hollows of green lawn,
Where boys with windy hair and wine wet lips
Danced on the sun-splashed grass; and hills of dawn
That looked out seaward to the distant ships.

In infinite still night the moon swam low
And saffron in a silver dusted sky;
Beauty and sorrow hand in hand with slow
Soft wings and soundless passage wandered by.

And white roads vanishing beneath the sky
Called for our feet, and there were countless things
That we must see and do, while blood was high
And time still hovered on reluctant wings.

And these were good; yet in our hearts we knew
These were not all, - that still through toil and pains
Deeds of a purer lustre given to few,
Made for the perfect glory that remains.

And when the summons in our ears was shrill
Unshaken in our trust we rose, and then
Flung but a backward glance, and care-free still
Went strongly forth to do the work of men.