BY SOPHIA HELMKAMP

Being a respectful parody of “Sea Fever” by John Masefield. 

I must go up to the hills again, to the cliffs and valleys high,
And all I ask is a trusty compass-point to steer me by,
And the lonely cry of the wind’s rush, and the pine-needles shaking,
And a grey mist in the flat light, and a grey dawn breaking. 

I must go up to the hills again, for the call of the mountainside
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied,
And all I ask is a bluebird day for the lofty mountain spires,
And the red and gold on the chiseled peaks of the setting sun’s pyres. 

I must go up to the hills again, to the wild, ranging life,
To the elk’s way and the cougar’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife,
And all I ask is a traveler’s tale from a crusty fellow-rover,
And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trek’s over. 

[Written for the St. Andrew’s Lutheran Church and Campus Center retreat in the Snowy Range, WY, September 2018.]