FACING west, from California's shores, <br /> Inquiring, tireless, seeking what is yet unfound, <br /> I, a child, very old, over waves, towards the house of maternity, the <br /> land of migrations, look afar, <br /> Look off the shores of my Western Sea--the circle almost circled; <br /> For, starting westward from Hindustan, from the vales of Kashmere, <br /> From Asia--from the north--from the God, the sage, and the hero, <br /> From the south--from the flowery peninsulas, and the spice islands; <br /> Long having wander'd since--round the earth having wander'd, <br /> Now I face home again--very pleas'd and joyous; <br /> (But where is what I started for, so long ago? 10 <br /> And why is it yet unfound?)<br /><br />Walt Whitman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/facing-west-from-california-s-shores/
