It little profits that an idle king,By this still hearth, among these barren

crags,Matched with an aged wife, I mete and doleUnequal laws unto a savage

race,That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.I cannot rest from travel;

I will drinklife to the lees. All times I have enjoyedGreatly, have suffered

greatly, both with thosethat loved me, and alone; on shore, and whenThrough

scudding drifts the rainy HyadesVexed the dim sea. I am become a name;For always

roaming with a hungry heartMuch have I seen and known---cities of menAnd

manners, climates, councils, governments,Myself not least, but honored of them

all---And drunk delight of battle with my peers,Far on the ringing plains of

windy Troy.I am part of all that I have met;Yet all experience is an arch

wherethroughGleams that untraveled world whose margin fadesForever and forever

when I move.How dull it is to pause, to make an end.To rust unburnished, not to

shine in use!As though to breathe were life! Life piled on lifeWere all