Thro’ the jostle and din Wandering, he revels, Dreaming, desiring, possessing; Till, of a sudden Tired and afraid, he beholds The sordid assemblage Just as it is; and he runs With a sob to his Nurse (Lighting at last on him), And in her motherly bosom Cries him to sleep. Thus thro’ the World, Seeing and feeling and knowing, Goes Man: till at last, Tired of experience, he turns To the friendly and comforting breast Of the old nurse, Death. 1876 XXX KATE-A-WHIMSIES, John-a-Dreams, Still debating, still delay, And the world’s a ghost that gleams— Wavers—vanishes away! We must live while live we can; We should love while love we may. Dread in women, doubt in man . . . So the Infinite runs away. 1876 XXXI O, HAVE you blessed, behind the stars, The blue sheen in the skies, When June the roses round her calls?— Then do you know the light that falls From her belovèd eyes. And have you felt the sense of peace That morning meadows give?— Then do you know the spirit of grace, The angel abiding in her face, Who makes it good to live. She shines before me, hope and dream, So fair, so still, so wise, That, winning her, I seem to win Out of the dust and drive and din A nook of Paradise. 1877 XXXII _To_ D. H. O, FALMOUTH is a fine town with ships in the bay, And I wish from my heart it’s there I was to-day; I wish from my heart I was far away from here, Sitting in my parlour and talking to my dear. For it’s home, dearie, home—it’s home I want to be. Our topsails are hoisted, and we’ll away to sea. O, the oak and the ash and the bonnie birken tree They’re all growing green in the old countrie. In Baltimore a-walking a lady I did meet With her babe on her arm, as she came down the street; And I thought how I sailed, and the cradle standing ready For the pretty little babe that has never seen its daddie. And it’s home, dearie, home . . . O, if it be a lass, she shall wear a golden ring; And if it be a lad, he shall fight for his king: With his dirk and his hat and his little jacket blue He shall walk the quarter-deck as his daddie used to do. And it’s home, dearie, home . . .