Flight

Wa-wa, the wild goose, is flying through the night! Splintering the moon-beams in a silver spray! Telling all the little world he has right of way! Free and far and joyous, safe beyond our sight, Wa-wa, the wild goose, takes his homeward flight!

Wa-wa, the wild goose, the strong one and the wise, Calls as does a shepherd to his own grey flock, And he bids them follow through gates that never lock;— Gauzy gates of mist, that swing along the skies;— Wa-wa, the wild goose, the ancient and wise.

Well he knows the rolling clouds, well he knows the rain; All the immemorial stars are old friends to him; Give they salutation above each mountain rim! So they banish weariness—make the dark road plain; Wa-wa, the wild goose, is going north again!

If we catch an echo of his wild March cry, All our hearts give answer, and tears make us blind; For we are heavy burdened—we are left behind— While he goes adventuring—he goes sweeping by— Wa-wa, the wild goose, free and glad and high!