| William Wilfred Campbell, comp. The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse. 1913. | | | | The Poet Calls | | By Alan Sullivan (1868–1947) |
| | | FILL me with fire and rapture! Gird me with speech divine | |
| That the word of my mouth be music, that the chord of my speech be wine; | |
| For the soul that trembles within me would marvellous things unfold, | |
| Tho’ the world is weary of singing and the eyes of the world are cold. | |
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| I am the deathless vision, the voice of memorial years, | 5 |
| The Prince of the earth’s rejoicing, the Prophet and Priest of tears! | |
| Have I not tasted rapture, have I not loved and died, | |
| Mounted the peaks of passion, with you been crucified? | |
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| Tears and kisses and laughter, arms in a linked embrace, | |
| Magical union of body, and glory of magical face: | 10 |
| These—shall I sing of them sweetly? I know when the lovers stray | |
| In the hush where the cloistered woodland broods over the wistful day. | |
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| Would you I bring my music? I’ll pipe where the toilers go; | |
| And through your sweat and labour the strain of my song shall flow, | |
| Dulcet sweet for your comfort, winged with a delicate fire, | 15 |
| The shout of a strong heart chanting to the lift of the soul’s desire. | |
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| Come! I will lead you softly, through floods that are smooth and deep, | |
| And trailed with shimmering curtain of dream-embroidered sleep, | |
| To the dim mysterious portal, where the spirit of man may see | |
| The fold of the veil dividing himself from eternity. | 20 |
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| And whether you stay to hearken and drink of my healing spring, | |
| Or turn from the plaint of my tender articulate whispering— | |
| Ere ever ye came,—I was ancient; and after ye pass,—I come, | |
| The voice that shall rise in rapture when the moan of the earth is dumb. | | | | |
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