The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse
Epitaph for a VoyageurTheodore Goodridge Roberts (18771953)
C
Love could not keep him. Duty forged no chain.
The wide seas and the mountains called to him,
The grey dawns saw his camp-fires in the rain.
Revel might hold him for a little space,
But turning, past the laughter and the lamps,
His eyes must ever catch the luring face.
Rare lips, aquiver silently implore,
But ever he must turn his furtive head,
And hear the other summons at the door.
The dark firs knew his whistle up the trail.
Why tarries he to-day?—and yesternight
Adventure lit her stars without avail!