Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 91

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XCI WANDERERS
Love is a Rome, and many roads there be Leading to that great City of Delight,Old—new—religious—everything but free— A dream by day—a solid town at night. All roads are good for entrance, none for flight,And every traveller sees what he would see.
The roads lead hither over many a hill, Through countries parted by the salt sea-foam,And many names they bear—Affliction still The safest—but at length they all lead home.Accuse us not of wandering at our will! Life's clearest voice it is that bids us roam.
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