I weary to-night, I weary,
I weary, I know not why,
And a sadness fills me slowly
As the twilight fills the sky.
I feel far down in my bosom
A shadow that haunts me still,
And strange and restless wishes,
That come and go at their will.
I wander as clouds will wander,
Ere the night and the storm come on;
I start at the sound of gladness,
And wish to be alone.
Then I think of a dream I cherished,
Of a purpose that was crossed,
And a far-off fading sweetness
That my own dim life has lost.
A sweetness, as if of a vision
Of a saint coming down from the skies,
With her hands clasped over her bosom,
And love in her dark, sweet eyes,
Of my life with its early promise,
Which now to myself is seen,
Like the covers of some old volume,
With the title-page between.
So I weary, O, I weary,
I weary, I know not why,
And a sadness fills me slowly
As the twilight fills the sky.