Drifting.
SCOTTA, you are drifting from me,
O’er the billows of life’s tide;
You and I have sailed together,
With our frail barks side by side.
You are drifting with the current,
But my feeble oar is light,
Too light to follow; and, in anguish,
I must watch you drift from sight.
Drifting, gliding, moving onward,
Tide and sky seem one deep blue;
All in vain my eyes are yearning,
You have drifted from my view.
But there’s yet a broader current,
Where our meeting barks will land;
You and I still bound together,
Heart to heart, and hand to hand.
