Unsatisfied

Some sigh for the breath of the desert         Where the stifling heat waves blow;     Some pant for the trackless tundra         And the sting of the cold and snow;     Some long for the wash of a sultry sea         As it breaks on a tropic shore;     Some pine for the breeze of the northern seas         And the sound of the Arctic's roar.     The things that men love be countless         But they're seldom the same with two,     For the things I care for most of all         Might never appeal to you.     Some men run to wine and woman,         Some long for a wife and a home,     And he drifts with the tide, unsatisfied,         Who leaves these things to roam.     For he hates the sands of the desert         And the slimy tropic south,     Or his dreams of a northern fortune         Are as ashes in his mouth.     He loses the best life holds for man         His existence means discontent     Still he goes his way, until comes the day         When he quits it--a life misspent.     YET     Some sigh for the breath of the desert         Where the stifling heat waves blow;     Some pant for the trackless tundra         And the sting of the cold and snow;     Some long for the wash of a sultry sea         As it breaks on a tropic shore;     Some pine for the breeze of the northern seas         And the sound of the Arctic's roar.