Following The Song

I am sick for want of loneliness,
Of lonely places and loveliness,
Of trees blooming in summer glory.
For too long I have dwelt in rain,
And marveled at tales of passion and pain;
It is time to return to the story

That was mine before I was born.
Wound in the genes, a song forlorn
Has called me on to other places.
I have sojourned in the green valleys,
And even learned to love a city's alleys; 
But I was meant for other graces.

I have let the singing within my mind
Fade to something softer than the wind.
But I go seeking song now; it answers.
It reveals once more the burning desire
That turns the world to clouds of burning fire,
And reveals me as one of the far dancers.

Let the others remain near; I have too long 
Been here, and not following my song,
Not dancing at the ends of the earth,
Not following dragon and unicorn 
To hidden places where beauty is born,
Not rejoicing in their starry mirth.

I am meant for far, born for the far,
For the leaping between star and star,
And to record the laughter of elves;
Let me go now, sweet poisoned traps!
Forgive me, O song, for this my lapse,
And teach me once more song of myselves.