| |
| WESTWARD on the high-hilled plains | |
| Where for me the world began, | |
| Still, I think, in newer veins | |
| Frets the changeless blood of man. | |
| |
| Now that others lads than I | 5 |
| Strip to bathe on Severn shore, | |
| They, no help, for all they try, | |
| Tread the mill I trod before. | |
| |
| There, when hueless is the west | |
| And the darkness hushes wide, | 10 |
| Where the lad lies down to rest | |
| Stands the troubled dream beside. | |
| |
| There, on thoughts that once were mine, | |
| Day looks down the eastern steep, | |
| And the youth at morning shine | 15 |
| Makes the vow he will not keep. | |
| |
