The Versery

Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though;

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

We wear the mask that grins and lies, It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—