XL. Into my heart on air that kills
INTO my heart on air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?
That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.
A. E. Housman (1859–1936). A Shropshire Lad. 1896.
Be happy with where you are. This is home.
2 thoughts on “You Can Never Go Home”
Reblogged this on O LADO ESCURO DA LUA.
Amen! Reminds me of something I once heard: “Everywhere I go, there I am.” As full-time RVers, we live this sentiment. In restaurants, for example, when a server asks where we’re from we’ll say, “We’re your town’s newest residents. For a little while, anyway.”