His homeward-rushing sails. Wherever he went
The Lord was with him, and the Lord upheld him.
And yet, O yet, one glory was to come;
One strangest gate into infinitude
Was yet to be swung back and take him home.
I know not how the fields that gave us birth
Draw us with sweetness, never to be forgotten
Back through the dark.
I saw him groping out,
As through a mist, into a shadowy garden;