by Alfred Stevens (1823 - 1906)
SADNESS
by S.E. Everett
(originally published 1867)
My heart is filled with strange unrest;
I'm sad, I know not why;
This world seems all a weariness,
From which I fain would fly.
It is not that I envy those
By fortune more caressed;
Nor is it strife with worldly foes,
That brings this wild unrest.
My friends are true, the world is kind;
My wants are well supplied;
Nor can my wishes be defined,
Or tell what I'm denied.
Yet strange it is, my heart is sad;
The days are long and drear;
And oft I wish their measure had
Fulfilled their courses here.
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