Wanderer's Desire

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              To E. J. S. AND F. O. T.

I CANNOT sleep for thinking
  Of things that I have seen
About the highways of the world,
  Where fields are fresh and green,
And hedges lie on either hand
  With a white road between.

I cannot rest for dreaming
  Of places I have known,
The grasses of the lonely hills.
  The meadows and the sown.
And all the secrets which appear
  To men who walk alone.

The comrades of my walking
  Are calling me to go,
And stroll with them across the hills
  Along a road we know.
Past inns where we can drink and talk
  When storm-winds bring the snow.

I cannot rise and follow
  The way they're calling me,
So I sit dreaming all the day,
  And all the day I see
The open highways of the world
  Where I would like to be.

Oxford, 1913