Though scarce did he hope it would soothe him again,
Till the threshold of home had been pressed by his feet.
But the lays of his boyhood had stolen to their ear,
And they loved what they knew of so humble a name;
And they told him with flattery welcome and dear
That they found in his heart something better than fame.
The stranger is gone, but he will not forget
When, at home, he shall talk of the toils he has known,
To tell with a sign, what endearments he met
When he strayed by the wave of the Schuylkill alone.