The songs that call for us to-night, they have called for men before us,
And the winds that blow the message, they have blown ten thousand years;
But this will end our wander-time, for we know the joy that waits us
In the strangeness of home-coming, and a faithful woman’s eyes.
Come away! come away; there is nothing now to cheer us—
Nothing now to comfort us, but love’s road home:
Over there beyond the darkness there’s a window gleams to greet us,
And a warm hearth waits for us within.
—Edward Arlington Robinson, “The Wilderness.”
(1422)