  Eyes that o’er the landscape fly, Over dale & wood & stream To the cloud-realms of the sky; Eyes that wander still & dream, Hopes that ever forward press Seeking lovelier loveliness; All the world is yours to roam —Searching eye & swiftling thought— Nowhere can ye make your home; Not where peace so vainly sought Bower’d in the valley lies, Nor content’s small villages; Nor can pleasure’s garish dress Tempt you to a mean caress —Thoughts that will not rest nor stay— Ever do ye tell her nay; Still ye wander—‘Where, O say, Lies our vision’d loveliness?’
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