Where star- and engine-flame would light your face.
Any moment now could take you there,
Bathwater boiling from your hair,
But stop! Turn to another path for now--
Run up to the places among the old trees,
And see, in the valleys spreading below,
The Lowlands and Villages laid out beneath
The savage high peaks, the hanging snow!
Put on a Sheewan cloak once more,
And slip behind the High City's doors!
Think in terms of wayside tea,
And have it with friends from places far--
Here's Byorneth, who led his friend to see
Places strange and standing stones!
See ancient carvings in tongues unknown,
The Highland woman who grew the leaf
That--No! Let them read if they do not know
The slave, the bear, the camp in the trees,
Tales of old times, the sound of the sea!
Muffle the knocker, bar the door,
And let us go to Arlinga once more!