That should have breathed upon his heart like spring,
Fostering its young faint flowers!
Yet had he friends,
And they went forth to cheer him on his way
Unto the parting spot; and she too went,
That mother, tearless for her youngest-born.
The parting spot was reach’d—a lone deep glen,
Holy, perchance, of yore; for cave and fount
Were there, and sweet-voiced echoes; and above,
The silence of the blue still upper heaven