The Call of the Wild

I. Heard ye the moaning wind, That wanders ‘neath the trees? As it flows upon the hill, It whispers tender ease. It bears the tone of freedom To every leaf and flower, And sings in low, sweet accents The rapture of the hour.

II. Oh, call of the wild and strange, It stirs the soul within, For the heart it longs for silence, Where the woodland winds begin. Where the shadows rise and linger, And the sunbeams twine and glow, In the sunshine’s sweet remembrance, Where no foot hath gone below.

• Robert Buchanan