Classic Poem

From the zest of the land of the living,
From work and reflection and play,
From the getting of love and the giving
I hasten away.

For I have a friend from the high land
Who's larked with me long on my plain;
And now to his glamorous sky-land
We're posting amain.

Up yonder his mansions are legion;
Though he's met on the street with a stare
Here, where I'm the lord of the region,—
So turn about 's fair.

We leave the snug inn on the high road.
I wave to my valley with pride.
Then we turn up the beckoning by-road
And swing into stride.