Before his tent were motionless. The leaves
Of the spiced aloe, and the clustering vines
Which half concealed his threshold, met his eye
Unchanged and beautiful; and one by one,
The balsam with its sweet-distilling stems,
And the Circassian rose, and all the crowd
Of silent and familiar things, stole up
Like the recovered passages of dreams.
He strode on rapidly. A moment more,
And he had reached his home; when lo! there sprang