Rise, Houshold-gods, and let us goe; But whither, I my selfe not know. First, let us dwell on rudest seas; Next, with severest Salvages; Last, let us make our best abode, Where humane foot, as yet, n'er trod: Search worlds of Ice; and rather there Dwell, then in lothed Devonshire. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHICH WAS MOST TRULY DEAD? by CHARLES AUGUSTIN SAINTE-BEUVE FESSEDEN'S GARDEN by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN LINES TO CASTE by SAMUEL ALFRED BEADLE PSALM 132 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT OF FIVE DAYS OLD by ELIZABETH BOYD SOMETIMES by C. MARGARET BRANDT LITTLE PATH by MARTHA MARDEN BRIGGS |