THERE'S something that is calling me—
Far off from Here—
It calls for me to come and see,
Away from Near.
Sometimes it tinkles like a bell.
Then echo songs above the blue,
And sometimes silver whistles tell
About a shining dream come true.
This call sings low of wonder-worlds.
It tells in runs and soft-blown trills
Of hidden places near that line
Where distance smooths the little hills.
The call is begging me to come.
It makes me dance and sing
Along the meadow road,
Far past the street's dust-ring.
There's something waiting just for me,
And I must go—must go,
Away from houses here, to see,
Where lights begin to glow.