Stranger.What became of him?
Sailor.My wife grew sick. He loved her as his mother;
He loved my daughter too. I sailed, and left him
To till my little ground and smooth their pathway.
After three years I came to port again.
Crossing my fields, which now poured forth their increase,
I saw a man resting upon his plough,
Singing right lustily.
Stranger.What did he sing?
Sailor.In the noontide of existence,