THE CALL OF THE WIND

THE wind comes rollicking out of the West

( Oh, wind of the West, so free! )

With the scent of the plains on its heaving breast.

( Oh, plains that I no more see! )

It cries through the smoky and roaring town

Of the tossing grass and the hillsides brown

Where the cattle graze as the sun goes down.

( Oh, sun on the prairie sea! )

And this is the song that the West wind sings;

( Oh, call of the wind, have done! )

That the worth of life is the joy it brings.

( Oh, joy that is never won! )

That the stainless sky and the virgin sod

Hold richer wealth, of the peace of God,

Than the streets where the weary toilers plod.

( Oh, streets that the heart would shun! )

But, wind of the West, in vain thy voice,

( Oh, why must the voice be vain? )

If joy were all,‘ twere an easy choice.

( Oh, choice that is fraught with pain! )

The road of life is a hard, hard way

But yet, if we hold to the path, it may

Lead back to the land of dreams some day.

( Yes, back to the plains again! )