Grace Fallow Norton

HARK to the wind of the world!

The shafts of my life are far-hurled—

I cannot belong to you!…

I belong to the cataract, leaping;

I belong to the west-wind, weeping;

I belong to the white swan, sleeping;

I belong to the wild curlew!

Away! I say it must end!

Call me not, call me not friend—

I am false for I must be true!

I belong to the cedar, swinging;

I belong to the silence, ringing;

I belong to the noon-sun, singing

Where the singing god-reed grew.

Go further, further away!

I will walk with you yet, some day,

But I will not belong to you.

I belong to the eagle, flying;

I belong to the sea-tide, sighing;

I belong to the wilderness, crying;

I belong to dawn and the dew!