Classic Poem

OH , YES , I heard the call
That, sounding through the world, wakes sleepers all!
I felt my spirit run,
With yours, tOhilltop altars of the sun;
But there, my tribute paid,
Another mood my pagan joy o'erlaid —
I have a mind to sing
The Spacious Loneliness of Early Spring.
And you shall feel it, too —
Out underneath the searching, cloudless blue.

Yon woods, how far away!
No green thought yet hath crept among the gray;
Yon heavens are too bright
For those old fields that ache against the light,
Until beneath a woof
Of tremulous misty air they draw aloof.
Wakes yonder any sound? —
Within the charmed distances, 'tis drowned! ...
But now a dead leaf's stir
Can wake how many a voice of those that were!
And nothing now seems near
Save memories of many a vernal year!
And, if those years shall be
Too many, from their hauntings you will flee,
And thankfully will turn
Indoors, where yet some genial embers burn;
Drive out the inthrust chill,
With those left in your lot who love you still;
And closer to them cling,
Amid the Loneliness of Early Spring.