Where is the world we roved, Ned Bunn? <br />Hollows thereof lay rich in shade <br />By voyagers old inviolate thrown <br />Ere Paul Pry cruised with Pelf and Trade. <br />To us old lads some thoughts come home <br />Who roamed a world young lads no more shall <br />roam. <br /> <br />Nor less the satiate year impends <br />When, wearying of routine-resorts, <br />The pleasure-hunter shall break loose, <br />Ned, for our Pantheistic ports:-- <br />Marquesas and glenned isles that be <br />Authentic Edens in a Pagan sea. <br /> <br />The charm of scenes untried shall lure, <br />And, Ned, a legend urge the flight-- <br />The Typee-truants under stars <br />Unknown to Shakespere's _Midsummer- <br />Night;_ <br />And man, if lost to Saturn's Age, <br />Yet feeling life no Syrian pilgrimage. <br /> <br />But, tell, shall he, the tourist, find <br />Our isles the same in violet-glow <br />Enamoring us what years and years-- <br />Ah, Ned, what years and years ago! <br />Well, Adam advances, smart in pace, <br />But scarce by violets that advance you trace. <br /> <br />But we, in anchor-watches calm, <br />The Indian Psyche's languor won, <br />And, musing, breathed primeval balm <br />From Edens ere yet overrun; <br />Marvelling mild if mortal twice, <br />Here and hereafter, touch a Paradise.<br /><br />Herman Melville<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-ned/
