travel teaches something

names on the map are magic but they lie
these are ordinary places just as plain
as where we come from the same rain
sun and cloud the same bright blue sky
the same dark birds in the same air fly
the same plain folk facing the same strain
the same sense and the same lack of brain
all places blur into each other by and by
yet there's still magic we still sense a force
different in different places a kind of power
that we must travel to find it's never here
but always somewhere other on our course
it comes always at some uncanny hour
and we cannot confront it without some fear