And gave me in his lodge abundant cheer;
Then tow’rd the rising sun for me he sped,
And saw the home from which the wanderer fled.
XXXVI.
“There too he saw his little children play,
And the white hand which gave the blanket red;
But now that gloomy time seems far away,
For much has happened, many a moon has sped;
The lodge is built, the garden smiling gay;—
Will the swift foot once more the forest thread,