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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=511033" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Long Trail</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield,<br>And the ricks stand grey to the sun,<br>Singing: &quot;Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the dover,<br>&quot;And your English summer's done.&quot;<br>You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind,<br>And the thresh of the deep-sea rain;<br>You have heard the song -- how long? how long?<br>Pull out on the trail again!<br>Ha' done with the Tents of Shem, dear lass,<br>We've seen the seasons through,<br>And it's time to turn the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br>Pull out, pull out, on the Long Trail-the trail that is always new!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It's North you may run to the rime-ringed sun<br>Or South to the blind Hom's hate;<br>Or East all the way into Mississippi Bay,<br>Or West to the Golden Gate --<br>Where the blindest bluffs hold good, dear lass,<br>And the wildest tales are true,<br>And the men bulk big on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br>And life runs large on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The days are sick and cold, and the skies are grey and old<br>And the twice-breathed airs blow damp;<br>And I'd sell my tired soul for the bucking beam-sea roll<br>Of a black Bilbao tramp,<br>With her load-line over her hatch, dear lass,<br>And a drunken Dago crew,<br>And her nose held down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail<br>From Cadiz south on the Long Trail-the trail that is always new.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">There be triple ways to take, of the eagle or the snake,<br>Or the way of a man with a maid;<br>But the sweetest way to me is a ship's upon the sea<br>In the heel of the North-East Trade.<br>Can you hear the crash on her brows, dear lass.<br>And the drum of the racing screw,<br>As she ships it green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br>As she lifts and 'scends on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">See the shaking funnels roar, with the Peter at the fore,<br>And the fenders grind and heave,<br>And the derricks clack and grate, as the tackle hooks the crate,<br>And the fall-rope whines through the sheave;<br>It's &quot;Gang-plank up and in,&quot; dear lass,<br>It's &quot;Hawsers warp her through!&quot;<br>And it's &quot;All clear aft&quot; on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br>We're backing down on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O the mutter overside, when the port-fog holds us tied,<br>And the sirens hoot their dread,<br>When foot by foot we creep o'er the hueless, viewless deep<br>To the sob of the questing lead!<br>It's down by the Lower Hope, dear lass,<br>With the Grinfleet Sands in view,<br>Till the Mouse swings green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br>And the Gull Light lifts on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O the blazing tropic night, when the wake's a welt of light<br>That holds the hot sky tame,<br>And the steady fore-foot snores through the planet-powdered floors<br>Where the scared whale flukes in flame!<br>Her plates are flaked by the sun, dear lass<br>And her ropes are taut with the dew,<br>For we're booming down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br>We're sagging south on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then home, get her home, where the drunken rollers comb,<br>And the shouting seas drive by,<br>And the engines stamp and ring, and the wet bows reel and swing,<br>And the Southern Cross rides high!<br>Yes, the old lost stars wheel back, dear lass,<br>That blaze in the velvet blue.<br>They're all old friends on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br>They're God's own guides on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fly forward, O my heart, from the Foreland to the Start<br>We're steaming all too slow,<br>And it's twenty thousand mile to our little lazy isle<br>Where the trumpet-orchids blow!<br>You have heard the call of the off-shore wind<br>And the voice of the deep-sea rain;<br>You have heard the song-how long? how long?<br>Pull out on the trail again!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Lord knows what we may find, dear lass,<br>And The Deuce knows we may do<br>But we're back once more on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br>We're down, hull-down, on the Long Trail -- the trail that is always new!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rudyard+Kipling">Rudyard Kipling</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=511033" data-title="The Long Trail de Rudyard Kipling" data-description="There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield,
And the ricks stand grey to the sun,
Singing: &quot;Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the dover,
&quot;And your English summer's done.&quot;
You have heard the beat of th..."></div>
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