(Their blue depths troubled with a strange surprise)
Sought out her mother’s;—tossing back her hair,
Her clear voice melted on the morning air;—
“We leave the homestead!—Say, dear mother, why?
Do not the birds and blossoms love us here?
Has any other home a clearer sky,
With brighter stars upon it? Mother, dear,
Shall we not sigh there for this old elm shade,
Where you and I and brother oft have played?
“We leave the homestead!—Oh! my father, tell,