It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night; and it is not dreamless.
Does not your house dream? and dreaming, leave the city for grove or hill-top?
And what is it that you guard with fastened doors?
Have you peace, the quite urge that reveals your power?
Have you remembrances, the glimmering arches that span the summits of the mind?
Have you beauty, that leads the heart from things fashioned of wood and stone to the holy mountain?
Or have you comfort, and the lust for comfort, that stealthy thing that enters the house a guest, and then becomes a host and then a master?
But you, children of space, you restless in rest, you shall not be trapped or tamed.
Your house shall be not an anchor but a mast..."