From “The Traveller”
REMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow,
Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wandering Po,
Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor
Against the houseless stranger shuts the door,
Or where Campania’s plain forsaken lies,
A weary waste expanding to the skies:
Where’er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravelled...