THE young men drift away from home; they go to Rahway and to Nome, to Boston and New York! and some of them will cross the sea, to try their luck in Gay Paree, in Edinburgh or Cork. They go afar, to play the game, to win the laurel wreath of fame, acquire a goodly roll; their native village doesn't yield a chance, they want a wider field than Punktown-in-the-Hole. Yet Punktown is a goodly town, and here a man may gain renown, and wealth, and honors, too; but you are full of dreams, my lad, and so you'll hike for Petrograd, across the ocean blue. Across the hills and far away, you'll have a better chance, you say, as hosts have said before; and so you say farewell to all, and leave behind your father's hall, his rooftree and his door. I know you'd do as well at home as you will do, where'er you roam, but it were vain to speak, for youth must tread the distant road, find for itself its own abode, its Eldorados seek. Go forth and hew and carve and build, and may the visions be fulfilled that agitate your soul! Go, wander 'neath a foreign sky, while we old codgers wilt and die, at Punktown-in- the-Hole! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY LITTLE GARDEN by GWENDOLEN ALLEN CANADA by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD GHOST-BEREFT; A SCENE FROM BOGLAND IN WAR-TIME by JANE BARLOW THE FESTUBERT SHRINE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE WHITE WATCH (OPUS 27: NO. 2) by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |