‘Come!’ and he sprang into his mother’s arms
With a light leap, and, scarcely faltering
In his gay laugh, he looked into her face,
And in a tone of fondness whispered her,
‘Will the boat bear, dear mother?’ She had quelled
Her feelings until now; had nerved herself
To the light grace with which he bounded by;
Had heard his voice, and looked upon his hair
In its light, breezy floatings, and had shut
Her heart up, with an iron thought, to all.