The Vagrant of Time

by Charles G.D. Roberts




A FAINT wind, blowing from World’s End,
    Made strange the city street.
A strange sound mingled in the fall
    Of the familiar feet.

Something unseen whirled with the leaves

    To tap on door and sill.
Something unknown went whispering by
    Even when the wind was still.

And men looked up with startled eyes
    And hurried on their way,

As if they had been called, and told
    How brief their day.