Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home:<br><br>Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine.<br><br>Long through thy weary crowds I roam;<br><br>A river-ark on the ocean brine,<br><br>Long I've been tossed like the driven foam:<br><br>But now, proud world! I'm going home.<br><br>Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face;<br><br>To Grandeur with his wise grimace;<br><br>To upstart Wealth's averted eye;<br><br>To supple Office, low and high;<br><br>To crowded halls, to court and street;<br><br>To frozen hearts and hasting feet;<br><br>To those who go, and those who come;<br><br>Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home.<br><br>I am going to my own hearth-stone,<br><br>Bosomed in yon green hills alone,—<br><br>secret nook in a pleasant land,<br><br>Whose groves the frolic fairies planned;<br><br>Where arches green, the livelong day,<br><br>Echo the blackbird's roundelay,<br><br>And vulgar feet have never trod<br><br>A spot that is sacred to thought and God.
