It is too much for thee.
Stay, stay at home with me, leave off thy lofty soaring;
Stay then at home with me, and on thy books be poring;
For he that goes abroad, lays little up in storing—
Thou'rt welcome my fancy, welcome home to me.
William Cleland
SONNET
There was an Indian, who had known no change,
Who strayed content along a sunlit beach