ell from the height;
A ship passing by, as if it was plann'd,
Carried him off mid the darkness of night.
He was up to the neck in debts and scrapes;
And when the west wind refreshingly blew,
He thought it the pleasantest of escapes
To sail for new worlds with nothing to do.
Strolling and idling by day and by night,
He liv'd by his wits, with a laugh for fate;
And his wits not being extremely bright,
He accomplish'd nothing remarkably great.

Wandering ev'rywhere, ragged and poor,
With nothing to do and plenty to say,
By the merest chance he enter'd our door
To ask for a meal and a bed by the way.

So the three of us met delighted there,
And set sail together that perfect spring,
When the skies were fine and the winds were fair,
And our hearts were lighter than anything.

From the midst of the sea the white cliffs rise--
The snowy white cliffs of the ocean gem!
And they smile their welcome into our eyes
As Harry and I smile it back on them.

Standing together alone on the deck,
With a hope that almost becomes a fear,
We can watch that wonderful little speck
Grow into places unspeakably dear.

Is it years or days since we sail'd away?
And are we returning the self-same track?
Did we cross the ocean but yesterday?
And is it to-day we are coming back?

Back to the home whence he vanish'd that night,
In through the hall where I talk'd with the men,--
Can it be true that our hearts are so light?
When did we dream? Is it now? Was it then?

And oh! to stand on the well-known road
In the bright uncertain English weather;
And oh! the hearts that are free from a load,
And oh! the hands that are knit together!

And oh! to see Rover leap to his side
With a yell as if he doubted his sight!
I thought the old dog would have really died
In his vehement agony of delight.

And I know the present is _not_ a dream,
For I feel a touch and a well-known kiss;
And they are not phantoms that shine and gleam
From days that are past with a solemn bliss.

From days that are lit by a heaven-ray,
To kindle our hearts and strengthen our faith;
For Harry and I are changed in a way,
Like people whose eyes have looked upon death.[2]

My Harry has won such a patient mood,
And has grown so resolute and so wise;
He is always trying to do some good,
And always succeeding in what he tries.

The trials I trembled that he s