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02/22/10(Mon)11:38 No.323495  >>323491
I cannot rest from
travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly,
have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on
shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the
dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much
have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates,
councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honoured of them all;
And
drunk delight of battle with my peers;
Far on the ringing plains of
windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience
is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin
fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause,
to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As
though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little,
and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that
eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile
it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this
grey spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking
star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. |
