What avails it me
That I have many friends
If when my walking ends
I come back to a lonely house

What boots it that I dwell
In a city free and rich and old
If the long streets never hold
The only form I love

What avails it I have bread
Raiment and books and leisure
Access to wisdom and to pleasure
If Ellen still is dead

In my chamber she is not
From my parlour joy is gone
Round the house I roam and groan
The glory of my house is fled

What avails it me
That I have many thoughts
That the nimble brain can run
Through all lands that see the sun
Hath a record of each race
That have had a dwelling place

If only I have right of seeing
In this wilderness of being
And from the vision glorious
Must come back to my lonely house.