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.