When thou bravest the final voyage,

And thou must steer

Across the mysterious ocean,

Friend, have no fear;

There is only one port for the sailors

When once they are Homeward Bound!

[Pg 20]

[Pg 20]

 Approaching Night

The lower'd skies are grey; the trees are bare.

A week ago they gleam'd in splendid rows

Of gold and crimson; now in gaunt despair

They stand like ghosts above new-fallen snows.

The world seems even greyer than the skies.

'Twas yesterday the homeward-honking geese

Fled as from death. They know too well what lies

Behind this sinister, foreboding peace!

 Prev. P 21/21