L'Envoi (Unabridged)

There's a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield, And the ricks stand gray to the sun, Singing: – "Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the clover, And your English summer's done." You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind, And the thresh of the deep-sea rain; You have heard the song – how long! how long? Pull out on the trail again!