Facing West, From California'S Shores, Inquiring, Tireless, Seeking What Is Yet Unfound, I, A Child, Very Old, Over Waves, Towards The House Of Maternity, The Land Of Migrations, Look Afar, Look Off The Shores Of My Western Sea--The Circle Almost Circled; For, Starting Westward From Hindustan, From The Vales Of Kashmere, From Asia--From The North--From The God, The Sage, And The Hero, From The South--From The Flowery Peninsulas, And The Spice Islands; Long Having Wander'D Since--Round The Earth Having Wander'D, Now I Face Home Again--Very Pleas'D And Joyous; (But Where Is What I Started For, So Long Ago? And Why Is It Yet Unfound?)