Classic Poem

I do not yearn for prairies wide;
I crave to tramp no tangled wood;
I hunger for no hills. I tried. . . .
It did no good.

And yet I wish I wished to roam;
I wish I craved the open sea;
Or loved the meadow for my home,
The life that's free.

I wish I craved to see the corn,
Or ached to glimpse some native spot;
And yet to be where I was born
I hanker not.

I wished I yearned to see the hut
Of boyhood, if for but a minute.
Not that I like this wishing, but
There's money in it.