SETTING OUT
Loth to leave, yet eager to look For what, beyond my travel, I shall at last unravel, I close all knowledge with the book, Lock the small, familiar room, And walk toward my doom. .
This is the journey we shall take Whether or not agreeing, Blind-eyed or sharply seeing. The moment comes, and we forsake Habit, loved ones, all we own, And walk forth alone.
Who wants to go ? Only a few Diseased in mind or spirit, Hoping they may inherit Fortunes no mortal ever knew : They boast, no doubt, how they wilt rise And walk toward the prize.
But I am one who faces both Homeward, where all passion Still lives in a fashion, And outward where, with feeling loth I see kindlings of new desire And walk toward that fire.
Enough of foolish talk, to crave For one, or dread the other. Best let adventure smother Thoughts of either side the grave.
That way alone—the summons come—
We walk toward our home.
RICHARD CHURCH.
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