Classic Poem

If I call, will you hear me, O comrades of mine,
When the sky in the East holds the grey of the dawn,
When the soft wind is stirring the plumes of the pine
And the shadow goes gliding beneath like a fawn?

If I call, will you hear me, O long-ago friends,
As you pass to the stockyard with bridle on arm,
Where the song of the magpie to Heaven ascends
And the buddah-bush blooms with its delicate charm?

If I call, will you hear me? Heart calling to heart
Across the wide water, across the long years.
In the life that you live have I, too, not a part?
Do I share not its laughter, its hopes and its fears?

If my saddle hangs idle, if no more I bind
The spurs of adventure to gleam on the heel,
Along Memory's paths may I stray not and find
The beat of bare hoofs and the jingle of steel?

Where we rode shall I ride not? Through scrubs where we raced
With the rein lying loose as some favourite flew
Through the ragged grey stems, through the boughs interlaced
Have ye ridden one ride where I rode not with you?

If I call, will you hear?—Nay; for Time will be king,
And the wind on wide water bears voices away.
The spurs as they glisten, the hoofs where they ring,
Are the servants of Youth at the dawn of the day.