That, while on his mission of peril and care,
Success may be his, and, by deeds renowned,
He may meet us again with laurels crowned.”
All glasses are raised, when a gentle hand
Is heard at the door—all silent stand
As it slowly opens, and into the light
An old man steps, his features bright:
The long white hairs o’er his shoulders stream;
Like silver threads in the warm rays beam.
Wrinkled his brow, and pale his face,