Enough Rope/Hearthside
Hearthside
HALF across the world from meLie the lands I’ll never see—I, whose longing lives and diesWhere a ship has sailed away;I, that never close my eyesBut to look upon Cathay.
Things I may not know nor tellWait, 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 healAncient scars of trench and tombI shall never walk; nor kneelWhere 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.