Louis Untermeyer

IS it a tribute or betrayal when,

Turning from all the sweet, accustomed ways,

I leave your lips and eyes to seek you in

Some other face?

Why am I searching after what I have,

And going far to find the near at hand?

I do not know—I only know I crave

To find you at the end.

I only know that Love has many a hearth,

That Hunger has an endless path to roam,

And Beauty is the dream that drives the earth

And leads me home.