I Know Not Where I Go

I Know Not Where I Go

I'm lonesome for I know not what —
The North Star told me so;
though south I travel every day,
due north at night I go.

The sun arcs high from east to west,
its backdrops rearrange—
and during day the south is warm,
the north is gray and strange.

As dusk begins to blush such hues
as only fall leaves know,
the North Star gleams, it shines its eye—
it knows I do not know.

That bright star points my way back home
where those who love me best
are deep entranced in this and that
and leave me to my rest.

I'm lonesome for I know not what
the sun climbs towards the west—
according to our deeds, we live;
at night the robins nest.

But I can't help but wander to
and even further fro;
the North Star disappears in day—
I know not where I go.