DISLOYAL scorner of his native land, Th' inconstant traveller, with roaming eyes, Explores the earth to find, 'neath foreign skies, Conditions happier than near at hand. He dreams a paradise on distant strand, Where he, good fortune's heir, expects a prize. What marvel then if thoughtless youth despise The plain realities that round him stand. The true Utopia is only found Where master-minds their destinies create, And through endurance prove them doubly dear. The place whereon we stand is holy ground. The nearest duty weaves the web of fate. Reward and work are one; and heaven is here. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest... |