O for the mighty wakening that aroused
The old-time Prophets to their missions high;
And to blind Homer's inward sunlike eye
Show'd the heart's universe where he caroused ...
Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
'Not to die on the straw at home.
Those hands to close these eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old man in the skies.
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