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Christopher Brennan - "I am driven everywhere from a clinging home, . ."
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I am driven everywhere from a clinging home, 
 O autumn eves! and I ween`d that you would yet 
 have made, when your smouldering dwindled to odorous fume, 
 close room for my heart, where I might crouch and dream 
 of days and ways I had trod, and look with regret 
 on the darkening homes of men and the window-gleam, 
 and forget the morrows that threat and the unknown way. 
 But a bitter wind came out of the yellow-pale west 
 and my heart is shaken and fill`d with its triumphing cry: 
 You shall find neither home nor rest; for ever you roam 
 with stars as they drift and wilful fates of the sky!
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