William Ernest Henley

Where forlorn sunsets flare and fade
   On desolate sea and lonely sand,
Out of the silence and the shade
   What is the voice of strange command
Calling you still, as friend calls friend
   With love that cannot brook delay
To rise and follow the ways that wend
   Over the hills and far away?

Hark in the city, street on street
   A roaring reach of death and life,
Of vortices that clash and fleet
   And ruin in appointed strife,
Hark to it calling, calling clear,
   Calling until you cannot stay
From dearer things than your own most dear
   Over the hills and far away?

Out of the sound of the ebb-and-flow,
   Out of the sight of the lamp and star,
It calls you where the good winds blow,
   And the unchanging meadows are;
From faded hopes and hopes agleam,
   It calls you, calls you night and day
Beyond the dark into the dream
   Over the hills and far away.