Losers, Finders; Nester’s Blinders [Sonnet]

I ventured beyond civilization,
   and (by man's definition) I was lost.
 I knew no near city, state, or nation.
   Who knows what backwoods borders I'd crossed?
 I'd drifted down streams: still and rapid tossed,
   and when boat filled faster than I could bale,
 I took to foot. Onward at any cost!
   I passed over mountains and through their vales,
 and trudged the badlands, unparted by trails.
   But he who's lost is often he who finds,
 and I learned history's forfeit details
   in form of ruins in a sheltered blind. 
 Oh! What novel and beautiful sights
   are had by lost souls in eternal nights!

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