Hearthside

Half across the world from me

Lie the lands I'll never see—

I, whose longing lives and dies

Where a ship has sailed away;

I, that never close my eyes

But to look upon Cathay.

Things I may not know nor tell

Wait, where older waters swell;

Ways that flowered at Sappho’s tread,

Winds that sighed in Homer’s strings,

Vibrant with the singing dead,

Golden with the dust of wings.

Under deeper skies than mine,

Quiet valleys dip and shine.

Where their tender grasses heal

Ancient scars of trench and tomb

I shall never walk: nor kneel

Where the bones of poets bloom.

If I seek a lovelier part,

Where I travel goes my heart;

Where I stray my thought must go;

With me wanders my desire.

Best to sit and watch the snow,

Turn the lock, and poke the fire.