An English Poet forsees his Future.

Wanderer above the Sea of Fog - Caspar David Friedrich, c.1818

You, who have surveyed its murky oceans
And plumbed its bottomless depths;
Who have dined in its bright restaurants,
And slept in the shadow of its doors.

You, who have felt love's childish clutch upon your arm,
And her stinging caress across your face;
Like a blanket of snow
Beneath the bitting winter's gale.

You, who have seen the jewels of the Orient,
You, the horrors of the third world;
Who have snatched glimpses of its meaning
residing in that great deep.

To have been the wanderer above the mists,
And the lonely traveller beneath the brume,
Is better than to have sat within like I,
My clutching breath a solitary sigh.