The Wanderlust has lured me to the seven lonely seas,
Has dumped me on the tailing-piles of dearth;
The Wanderlust has haled me from the Morris chairs of ease,
Has hurled me to the ends of all the earth.
How bitterly I’ve cursed it, oh, the Painted Desert knows,
The wraithlike heights that hug the pallid plain,
The all-but-fluid silence, — yet the longing grows and grows,
And I’ve got to glut the Wanderlust again.

Soldier, sailor, in what a plight I’ve been
Tinker, tailor, oh what a sight I’ve seen
And I’m hitting the trail in the morning, boys,
And you won’t see my heels for dust;
For there’s never a cure
When you list to the lure
Of the Wanderlust.

my dad used to recite this to me when i was younger. it’s only the beginning but he knew the whole thing by heart. learned it when he was logging in alaska. 

i hope the only thing that i am glutted on is the infinite richness of Christ.  my feet are restless for the road though. ptl He is sending me to cambodia next month!

  1. thecradleofthedeep posted this