Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
Wanderlust - Poem by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
THE highways and the byways, the kind sky folding all,
And never a care to drag me back and never a voice to call;
Only the call of the long, white road to the far horizon's wall.
The glad seas and the mad seas, the seas on a night in June,
And never a hand to beckon back from the path of the new-lit moon;
Never a night that lasts too long or a dawn that breaks too soon!
The shrill breeze and the hill breeze, the sea breeze, fierce and bold,
And never a breeze that gives the lie to a tale that a breeze has told;
Always the tale of the strange and new in the countries strange and old.
The lone trail and the known trail, the trail you must take on trust,
And never a trail without a grave where a wanderer's bones are thrust--
Never a look or a turning back till the dust shall claim the dust!
Comments about Wanderlust by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You