Who travels alone with his eye on the heights,
Though he laughs in the daytime, oft weeps through the nights;
For courage goes down with the set of the sun,
When the toil of the journey is all borne by one.
He speeds but to grief, though full gaily he ride,
Who travels alone without Love at his side.
Who travels alone, without lover or friend,
But hurries from nothing, to nought at the end;
Though great be his winnings, and high be his goal,
He is bankrupt in wisdom, and beggared in soul.
Life's one gift of value to him is denied
Who travels alone without Love at his side.
It is easy enough in this world to make haste
If we live for that purpose; but think of the waste!
For life is a poem to leisurely read,
And the joy of a journey lies not in its speed.
Oh! vain his achievement, and petty his pride,
Who travels alone without Love at his side.
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