Sinopsis

I LIKE the old house tolerably well, Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall feel quite at home: I love to roam. Day after day I loiter and explore From door to door; So many treasures lure The curious mind. What histories obscure They must immure! I hardly know which room I care for best; This fronting west, With the strange hills in view, Where the great sun goes,—where I may go too, When my lease is through,— Or this one for the morning and the east, Where a man may feast His eyes on looming sails, And be the first to catch their foreign hails Or spy their bales. 2 Then the pale summer twilights towards the pole! It thrills my soul