Not That I Always Struck The Proper Mean Of What Mankind Must Give For What They Gain, But, When I Think Of Those Whom Dull Routine And The Pursuit Of Cheerless Toil Enchain, Who From Their Desk-Chairs Seeing A Summer Cloud Race Through Blue Heaven On Its Joyful Course Sigh Sometimes For A Life Less Cramped And Bowed, I Think I Might Have Done A Great Deal Worse; For I Have Ever Gone Untied And Free, The Stars And My High Thoughts For Company; Wet With The Salt-Spray And The Mountain Showers, I Have Had The Sense Of Space And Amplitude, And Love In Many Places, Silver-Shoed, Has Come And Scattered All My Path With Flowers.