Classic Poem

True comrade, we have tasted life together;
With the wild joy at heart have slipped the tether
To follow, follow, to strange wildernesses,
The frank enticement of the wind and weather.

Joy of the quivering pole, the thrilling sinew,
When mad black rapids shook the soul within you.
As climbing toward the lakes of inland silence
I laughed to see the fanged rocks strain to win you.

Joy of the moonlight on the quiet reaches,
Where loitering we caught the word that teaches
The poise of Godhead to the questing spirit,
The urge of springtime to the budding beeches.

When through the dusk the serried clouds were massing,
Where some lost lake among the hills was glassing
The stormy fire above the western spruces,
The looming moose would wonder at our passing.

Then, when the outland voices ceased to hold us,
When winds would tell no more what once they told us,
We dreamed how far away a little village
Lay waiting with its welcome to infold us.