First poem I read of his was attributed to the mountain men. (No , not by Service as much as a certain other (s).)
An era before crossing the U.S. / Canadian border was much of an issue.
And foe some , a good description of what can be behind wanderlust.
As a former wanderer , you might recognize some of his points...
[Robert Service]
There's a race of men that don't fit in,
A race that can't stay still;
So they
break the
hearts of kith and kin,
And they roam the
world at will.
They
range the
field and they rove the flood,
And they
climb the mountain's crest;
Theirs is the
curse of the
gypsy blood,
And they don't know how to rest.
If they just went
straight they
might go far;
They are
strong and
brave and true;
But they're
always tired of the
things that are,
And they want the
strange and new.
They say: "Could I find my
proper groove,
What a deep mark I
would make!"
So they chop and change, and each
fresh move
Is only a
fresh mistake.
And each forgets, as he
strips and runs
With a brilliant,
fitful pace,
It's the steady, quiet,
plodding ones
Who win in the
lifelong race.
And each
forgets that his
youth has fled,
Forgets that his
prime is past,
Till he
stands one day, with a hope that's dead,
In the
glare of the
truth at last.
He has failed, he has failed; he has
missed his chance;
He has just done
things by half.
Life's been a
jolly good joke on him,
And now is the time to laugh.
Ha, ha! He is one of the
Legion Lost;
He was
never meant to win;
He's a
rolling stone, and it's bred in the bone;
He's a man who won't fit in.