home is the hunter, home from the hill [actually the front patio gate]

from the archives, Oct. 2019

 

R.L.S.

 

Home is the sailor, home from sea:

 Her far-borne canvas furled

The ship pours shining on the quay

 The plunder of the world.

 

Home is the hunter from the hill:

 Fast in the boundless snare

All flesh lies taken at his will

 And every fowl of air.

 

’Tis evening on the moorland free,

 The starlit wave is still:

Home is the sailor from the sea,

 The hunter from the hill.

 

 

***A.E. Houseman

Done