A Roamer Reverts

The same thatch and food
At dusk when work is over!
I want the evening star
To butter my bread with.
The golden evening star,
And the new moon's knife to spread it;
For the heart of me hungers
Toward what 's beyond the far.

The old things are good things:
A roof, a fire, and a wife
To sit by me and spin
While children throng her knee;
And talk of what has been:
Dear God, women are well so:
But a man wants the world's end
To lose his soul in.

He wants to go—and forget;
And remember—and repent;
And forget again—and follow
The trail of the Not-To-Be.
To climb, fight and wallow;
Even stake claims in Hell
If he may only mine there
Metals of liberty.

He wants ever to go,
Even though he has learnt,
As I, that only the feet
That fare to a hearth fare far.
So husks however unmeet
On a highway he 'll choose,
Rather than any bread spread
With what's at home to eat.