Arthur Somervell — There Pass the Careless People

There pass the careless people That call their souls their own: Here by the road I loiter How idle and alone Ah, past the plunge of plummet In seas I cannot sound My heart and soul and senses World without end, are drowned His folly has not fellow Beneath the blue of day That gives to man or woman His heart and soul away There flowers no balm to sain him From east of earth to west That's lost for everlasting The heart out of his breast Here by the labouring highway With empty hands I stroll: Sea-deep, till doomsday morning Lie lost my heart and soul