Where’er it be, that hath received his being
Out of oblivion, and given his mind
The shapes and hues of earth, the sights of heaven,
The place whence he sets forth to meet strange things,
Whither returns to find his own, himself;
This bides, the harbour of his fancy,—and draws him
Spite of all else from world’s end to world’s end.
And more, more dear, are those whose place it was,
Whose name he is called by, whom he calls his own,
Whose love hath borne and nurtured him, whose life