When Mate Calls To Mate

Before me, spreading endlessly,
The grey roadway stretcheth.
Yea, there is the willowed hedge
And the briared skirt, and the sky
Spreading gloriously, and the perfume
Of the blossoms, and the cry
Of the songsters each to his mate.
I think that is what lieth
Heavy upon my heart,
The call of each unto his mate!
What hap the roadway is long,
And I no longer see my way?
For I am filled with the music
Of that calling of the songsters,
Mate unto mate, and I call
And wander whither, on, on, on,
Listening, listening. Yet yon
Is the little shadow which denotes
The turn of the long roadway,
And I hear the answering call!
Let me be on! I would speed my steps,
Leaving the days like a darting arrow;
For that calling of mate unto mate
Is the wind which bears me on my way.