not all who wander are lost.

Wednesday, October 3, 2012



by: Robert Louis Stevenson

      NDER the wide and starry sky,
      Dig the grave and let me lie.
      Glad did I live and gladly die,
      And I laid me down with a will.
      This be the verse you grave for me:
      Here he lies where he longed to be;
      Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
      And the hunter home from the hill.

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