Poetry Archives

Said Will: “I’ll stay and till the land.”
Said Jack: “I’ll sail the sea.”
So one went forth kit-bag in hand,
The other ploughed the lea. 

They met again at Christmas-tide,
And wistful were the two.
Said Jack: “you’re lucky here to bide.”
Said Will: “I envy you.” 

“For in your eyes a light I see
Of tropic shores agleam.”
Said Jack: “You need not envy me,
For still you have the Dream. 

“The Dream that lured me out to sea;
’Twas bright as paradise;
Far fairer than the memory
You see within my eyes. 

So if my foolish urge you share
In foreign lands to roam,
Take up my kit-bag waiting there
And I will stay at home.” 

    *    *    *    *    *    *    *    * 

Yet while the years have fated Will
To sow the sober loam,
The eyes of Jack are starry still,
High-riding hills of foam.