I hear your secret calling
In the bidding night
When regrets become most galling
And the lashes from each mauling
Plight my silence to your light

I hear your strident calling
In the urgent morn
As if the catawaling
Of the city traffic stalling
Might cause me to be born

I hear your soothing calling
In the high noon hour
As the shade shrinking
And the thirsty drinking
Mark the ebb of human power.

I hear your raucus calling
In the far gone dusk
As if revellers a-brawling
Or broken hearts a-squalling
Might wrest me from my husk

I hear you always calling
In the hale and the diseased
As the clatter of my falling
As a hurt child bawling
Sends me whither all is eased.