While we watch and see them fade, with sorrow and with longing."
"Little Robert, little Rose!" The stranger's eyes were glistening
At his bronzed and bearded face, upgazed the children, listening;
He knelt upon the yellow sand, and clasped them to his bosom,
Robert brave, and little Rose, as bright as any blossom.
"Father, father! Is it you?" The still air rings with rapture;
All the vanished joy of years the waiting ones recapture!
Finds he welcome wild and sweet, the low-thatched cottage reaching,
But the ship that into sunset steered, upon the rocks lies bleaching.