Roving, roving, as it seems, <br />Una lights my clouded dreams; <br />Still for journeys she is dressed; <br />We wander far by east and west. <br /> <br />In the homestead, homely thought; <br />At my work I ramble not; <br />If from home chance draw me wide, <br />Half-seen Una sits beside. <br /> <br />In my house and garden-plot, <br />Though beloved, I miss her not; <br />But one I seek in foreign places, <br />One face explore in foreign faces. <br /> <br />At home a deeper thought may light <br />The inward sky with chrysolite, <br />And I greet from far the ray, <br />Aurora of a dearer day. <br /> <br />But if upon the seas I sail, <br />Or trundle on the glowing rail, <br />I am but a thought of hers, <br />Loveliest of travellers. <br /> <br />So the gentle poet's name <br />To foreign parts is blown by fame; <br />Seek him in his native town, <br />He is hidden and unknown.<br /><br />Ralph Waldo Emerson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/una-2/
