Not that I always struck the proper mean br Of what mankind must give for what they gain, br But, when I think of those whom dull routine br And the pursuit of cheerless toil enchain, br Who from their desk-chairs seeing a summer cloud br Race through blue heaven on its joyful course br Sigh sometimes for a life less cramped and bowed, br I think I might have done a great deal worse; br For I have ever gone untied and free, br The stars and my high thoughts for company; br Wet with the salt-spray and the mountain showers, br I have had the sense of space and amplitude, br And love in many places, silver-shoed, br Has come and scattered all my path with flowers.