He hopes for greater circumstance; he dreams Of Eldorado or a bright Yukon Where gold is washed in ever-flowing streams. A road where other vagabonds have gone Leads him beyond the pillared hills of home, A yard, a garden and a little house; A finger points to Xanadu or Nome, Far from the thraldom of a nagging spouse. He dreams and dreams . . . Headlong the seasons roll: Summer and Winter, Autumn and the Spring, And yet he is no nearer to his goal Than when he first began his wandering. And yet, no matter how he builds his walls, The mortar crumbles and the glory falls. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 31 by JAMES JOYCE YOUTH IMPERTURBABLE by CONRAD AIKEN AFTER VERLAINE by ANSELM HOLLO ON HUNTINGDON'S 'MIRANDA' by SIDNEY LANIER DISMAL MOMENT PASSING by CLARENCE MAJOR TO W.P.: 4 by GEORGE SANTAYANA |