Alfred Edward Housman

Additional Poems. 22. R.L.S.

Home is the sailor, home from sea:
        Her far-borne canvas furled
The ship pours shining on the quay
        The plunder of the world.

Home is the hunter from the hill:
        Fast in the boundless snare
All flesh lies taken at his will
        And every fowl of air.

’Tis evening on the moorland free,
        The starlit wave is still:
Home is the sailor from the sea,
        The hunter from the hill.