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,—