Fleeing From Love

I have sought for “the Land Where a Man Can Forget”

     And Oh, what a journey I’ve had;

The sky was o’ercast, and the mountains were vast,

     And the road it was rocky and bad.

I turned from your face, to the dim, distant hills

     Where the sun trails away to the west;

Where the silence is deep when the world goes to sleep

     Vainly hoping for comfort and rest.

O’er the sound of the brook and the song of the birds

     Your voice it still rang in my ears;

And your peerless young face with its exquisite grace,

     I saw through the mist of my tears.

Each stranger I met and each hand that I pressed

     I saw not its owner but you;

And though it was grand in the Faraway Land

     My spirit craved naught that was new.

Did I look at the mount in its glorious height

     You towered above it supreme;

Did I wander and lie where the waters rushed by

     I saw but your face in the stream.

And the voice of the night, and the song of the day,

     Was the song of your lips as of yore,

And the pain in my breast was the same old unrest

     That I found when I stopped at your door.

So I turned me back home in the morning gray

     Back home to the world and you;

To continue the fight toward duty and right,

     A most turbulent course to pursue.

Yea, I’ve sought for the Land where a man can Forget,

     Where no minds whisper sighs of regret;

But I found it is true, as confided by you,

     There’s no land where a man can Forget.

July 9, 1912