Page:The Spell of the Yukon and Other Verses.djvu/51



Yes, they're wanting me, they're haunting me, the awful lonely places; They're whining and they're whimpering as if each had a soul; They're calling from the wilderness, the vast and God-like spaces, The stark and sullen solitudes that sentinel the Pole.

They miss my little camp-fires, ever brightly, bravely gleaming In the womb of desolation, where was never man before; As comradeless I sought them, lion-hearted, loving, dreaming, And they hailed me as a comrade, and they loved me evermore.

And now they're all a-crying, and it's no use me denying; The spell of them is on me and I'm helpless as a child;