From childhood’s home: yet there, with fond delay,
She linger’d on the threshold, heard the note
Of her caged bird through trellis’d rose-leaves float,
And fell upon her mother’s neck and wept,
Whilst old remembrances, that long had slept,
Gush’d o’er her soul, and many a vanish’d day,
As in one picture traced, before her lay.
But the farewell was said; and on the deep,
When its breast heaved in sunset’s golden sleep,
With a calm’d heart, young Madeline ere long