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THE SATURNIAN


AH, I must follow it high and low,
   Tho' it leave me cold to your human touch!
Some starry sorcery made me so;
   And from my birth have I been such.
 
What is it I follow so secret-lone?
   Over the hills and along the sea?
Beauty with every seed is sown,
   For you, for them, for me?

Not so, by the gods! Do I not hear
   In the night a tender-muffled crying,
Rising, falling, sinking, dying?
   Oh, I must follow it thro' the world!

Not so, by the gods! When the dawn-wind stirs,
   Rustling over the river-reeds,
Trembling over the wet pastures,
   Shall I not follow it, whither it leads?

Oh, wild and sad, oh, wild and sweet,
   Is the lonely horn that I always hear,
Blown from the place where all streams meet,
   Where all horizons disappear!

The long sea-tides bring home to port,
   Their ships by many a moonlit wharf,