One with a bounding footstep, and a brow
Like light, to meet him. Oh! how beautiful!
Her dark eye flashing like a sun-lit gem,
And her luxuriant hair—’twas like the sweep
Of a swift wing in visions! He stood still,
As if the sight had withered him. She threw
Her arms about his neck; he heeded not.
She called him ‘Father,’ but he answered not.
She stood and gazed upon him. Was he wroth?
There was no anger in that bloodshot eye.