The valleys are pleasant, and days are long
With play and study, with work and song—
But a boy keeps planning for other things,
There's room in his restless body for wings,
And fancy will never fold them until
He sees for himself what is over the Hill.
But most I dream of the unknown sea
Where brave ships hasten like birds set free,
Where plunging breakers ride high and loud
Till the sailor is lost between wave and cloud.