The Ends of the Earth.

Let us go out to the ends of the Earth,
Where the clean winds are, and the silent ways,
Where the dream is the same as when time began,
Untouched by the little hand of man,
And the grief that follows his days.

Let us go out to the ends of the earth,
To the cool, high hills, and the fierce, glad sun,
Away from the spite that has sullied our dream;
To the trackless wastes where the far snows gleam,
And the deep quiet rivers run.

Let us go out to the ends of the earth,
Away from the strife and the endless feud
Of man with man. Where the lost ways are,
We shall find our dream in the light of a star,
In the untamed solitude.

—E. Mary Gurney.

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