Classic Poem

Must I, friends, set out on travel,
Must I breathe a foreign air?
Would ye have me wish to wander
From the tracks of daily care?
Yet amid these scenes so homely
I have deeper learnt to sink,
Yea! I feel (by these surrounded)
Freir, happier, than ye think!

Ne'er can I exhaust my rambles,
Ne'er this vale can fathom quite;
E'en the old familiar footpaths
Yield me ever fresh delight.
Oft whene'er the thought arises
That the path is lone and drear,
Close beside me, e'en in daylight,
Flit the forms of comrades dear.

When the sun from hence departeth,
Still my heart no quiet knows,
With him from the mountain-summits
Tow'rds romantic isles it goes;
Then the stars start out above me,
Challenging my earnest view
Till to heights for aye receding
I a heavenward track pursue.

Dreams of youth, both new and olden,
Past and Future equally,
Limitless celestial spaces
All are present here to me.
Therefore, friends, far hence I'll travel,
Mark my road, appoint a goal;
In my home's familiar circles
Roves too much my vagrant soul!