The Wanderer: A Poem

Hi there! Here’s a poem I wrote this evening inspired partly by the beautiful hills of the Lake District, which is where I’ve been holidaying for a week or so. I hope you enjoy.


My feet grow weary not

Of this path I tread, over

Hills and dales, fields and meadows,

Through sun and rain and wind and hail,

I wander ever on;

And though the road is dusty,

And though my limbs may ache;

My heart grows weary not of

Every step I take; mine

Eyes see many wonders, and every one

Is pure, despite all the many wondrous things

I might have seen before; yet

Though I tire not

Of wandering on this road; not

Of the views or beauteous hills,

Not of the sleet or snow;

I sometimes tire of wandering

So constantly alone; but

If your feet don’t tire,

And you won’t weary of my talk,

Then come and share the road with me,

Wherever we may walk.

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