Wanderlust

The highways and the byways, the kind sky folding all, And never a care to drag me back and never a voice to call; Only the call of the long white road to the far horizon’s wall. The glad seas and the mad seas, the seas on a night of June, And never a hand to beckon back from the path of the new-lit moon; Never a night that lasts too long or a dawn that breaks too soon! The shrill breeze and the hill breeze, the sea breeze fierce and bold, And never a breeze that gives the lie to a tale that a breeze has told; Always the tale of the strange and new in the countries strange and old.