The Great Adventure
The travel birds which journey in the spring
Lust after pleasures of awakened sight;
They rout the weather in a truceless fight,
And swell their souls with joy of buffeting
And constant strife. To know the unknown thing,
To see the unseeable in God’s despite,
To try his strength against another’s might,
This set Ulysses to his wandering.
And this we still desire, we, who live
Clamped to the dulness of an ordered round;
’Tis ours to take the best the world can give,
And if the taking slay us on the way
What loss is that? We too were outward bound
Beyond the narrow shelter of the bay.
Harold Verschoyle Wrong