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DLTK's Poems
The Call

by Charlotte Mew

     From our low seat beside the fire
        Where we have dozed and dreamed and watched the glow
    Or raked the ashes, stopping so
We scarcely saw the sun or rain
    Above, or looked much higher
Than this same quiet red or burned-out fire.
        To-night we heard a call,
        A rattle on the window-pane,
        A voice on the sharp air,
And felt a breath stirring our hair,
    A flame within us: Something swift and tall
    Swept in and out and that was all.
Was it a bright or a dark angel? Who can know?
    It left no mark upon the snow,
        But suddenly it snapped the chain
        Unbarred, flung wide the door
        Which will not shut again;
    And so we cannot sit here any more.

        We must arise and go:
            The world is cold without
            And dark and hedged about
      With mystery and enmity and doubt,
        But we must go
            Though yet we do not know
Who called, or what marks we shall leave upon the snow.



 

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