You say I've lived too long in France
And wearied of the senses' dance ?


Like fresh air in an opium den
You'll lead me out —- to where ? and when ?


.... I fear no country's ready yet
For our complexities: forget
The best of flesh and food to go
A'roaming o'er the world, and know
Discomfort's great surprises few —- ?
No, let me travel just to you !