It's little I care what path I take, <br />And where it leads it's little I care; <br />But out of this house, lest my heart break, <br />I must go, and off somewhere. <br /> <br />It's little I know what's in my heart, <br />What's in my mind it's little I know, <br />But there's that in me must up and start, <br />And it's little I care where my feet go. <br /> <br />I wish I could walk for a day and a night, <br />And find me at dawn in a desolate place <br />With never the rut of a road in sight, <br />Nor the roof of a house, nor the eyes of a face. <br /> <br />I wish I could walk till my blood should spout, <br />And drop me, never to stir again, <br />On a shore that is wide, for the tide is out, <br />And the weedy rocks are bare to the rain. <br /> <br />But dump or dock, where the path I take <br />Brings up, it's little enough I care: <br />And it's little I'd mind the fuss they'll make, <br />Huddled dead in a ditch somewhere. <br /> <br />'Is something the matter, dear,' she said, <br />'That you sit at your work so silently?' <br />'No, mother, no, 'twas a knot in my thread. <br />There goes the kettle, I'll make the tea.'<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/departure/
