There Where The Mighty Mountains Bare Their Fangs Unto The Moon; There Where The Sullen Sun-Dogs Glare In The Snow-Bright, Bitter Noon, And The Glacier-Gutted Streams Sweep Down At The Clarion Call Of June: There Where The Livid Tundras Keep Their Tryst With The Tranquil Snows; There Where The Silences Are Spawned, And The Light Of Hell-Fire Flows Into The Bowl Of The Midnight Sky, Violet, Amber, And Rose: There Where The Rapids Churn And Roar, And The Ice-Floes Bellowing Run; Where The Tortured, Twisted Rivers Of Blood Rush To The Setting Sun - I've Packed My Kit And I'm Going, Boys, Ere Another Day Is Done. * * * * * I Knew It Would Call, Or Soon Or Late, As It Calls The Whirring Wings; It's The Olden Lure, It's The Golden Lure, It's The Lure Of The Timeless Things; And To-Night, O God Of The Trails Untrod, How It Whines In My Heart-Strings! I'm Sick To Death Of Your Well-Groomed Gods, Your Make-Believe And Your Show; I Long For A Whiff Of Bacon And Beans, A Snug Shake-Down In The Snow, A Trail To Break, And A Life At Stake, And Another Bout With The Foe; With The Raw-Ribbed Wild That Abhors All Life, The Wild That Would Crush And Rend; I Have Clinched And Closed With The Naked North, I Have Learned To Defy And Defend; Shoulder To Shoulder We've Fought It Out - Yet The Wild Must Win In The End. I Have Flouted The Wild. I Have Followed Its Lure, Fearless, Familiar, Alone; By All That The Battle Means And Makes I Claim That Land For Mine Own; Yet The Wild Must Win, And A Day Will Come When I Shall Be Overthrown. Then When As Wolf-Dogs Fight We've Fought, The Lean Wolf-Land And I; Fought And Bled Till The Snows Are Red Under The Reeling Sky; Even As Lean Wolf-Dog Goes Down Will I Go Down And Die.