Far away
Seems to-day
The clamorous world of work and play;
Ours indeed
A different creed
From that of the modern god of Speed,
Whose converts suffer such grievous waste
In strenuous labor and feverish haste!
East or west,
A tranquil nest,
When curfew rings, is always best,
A landscape fair,
A volume rare,
And a kindred heart, one's peace to share,—
What is there better from life to take
In a sweet retreat on the Larian lake?
THE WANDERER
Wandering minstrel at my gate,
Shivering in the winter gloaming,
How appalling seems your fate,—
Destined to be always roaming,
Singing for a bit of bread
And a shelter for your head!
Your sweet voice is all you own,
Save the poor, thin clothes you're wearing,
And you are not quite alone,
For a dog your crust is sharing;
Yet o'er many a weary mile
You have brought … a song and smile!
I, who have abundant land,
Home with comforts beyond measure,
Gardens, loggias, and a strand
Where a boat awaits my pleasure,
Wonder what would be your story,
Were I tramp, and you signore!
Would you weary of control?
Long to slip your gilded tether,
And with Leo once more stroll,
Heedless of the wind and weather?
You could hardly do that all,
Once ensconced behind my wall.
Every one must make a choice,
Life is based on compensation;
You have nothing but your voice,
I have more, … but more vexation!
Minstrel, you at least are free;
Give your smile to slaves like me!
SECLUSION
Shut out the World, shut in the Home!
The sea is deeper than its foam;
Retain the gem, reject the paste;
Withdraw from Mammon's feverish haste,
Its tumult and its senseless waste.