Wanderers

Thinker, Dreamer, all
Do but wander
Under the gloomy sky
And they think and dream
Long of universe—
Wandering wondrous highways. . . . .
Slumbrous byways. . . . .
Gently gliding,
Down the vale so mistily hidden.

Awake are their dreams
Out of slumber rudely stirred. . . . . . .
Fear, Sorrow, Anguish
For the souls in the vale. . . . . . .
Toilers weary
With a burden great.

So the wanderer tarries.
Fearfully.
The curtain from his eyes
Drawn aside.
And he looks and wonders
If this be life or a dream.

The path is life !
The path is death !
We are travelling it—
Wanderers !

E.F.H.