Александр Андерсон (Alexander Anderson)

Aimless Longings

I am full of an aimless longing
 As I wander about to-day;
I turn from the light and shadow
 As they chase each other at play.

I hear a wild bird calling—
 A lonely cry from the hill;
And the haunting sense in my bosom,
 Grows deeper and lonelier still.

What it can be I know not,
 I cannot read it aright;
And I wander as men will wander
 That stray from the path in the night.

Is it a sense of something
 That to-day still follows me;
That out of my life has vanished,
 As a ship goes down at sea?

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