IV.

Thus as she stood and gazed, and noiseless wept, Two young slight forms across the threshold crept And reach'd the blind grey man, and kiss'd his hand, And then a moment o'er his lips there stray'd The old, familiar, sweet yet stately smile. On either side the children took their stand, And all the three were silent for awhile: Till one, the gentler, whisper'd some soft word, Mingling her young locks with that silvery hair; And the old man the child's meek voice obey'd, Rose,--lingering yet to breathe the gladsome air-- Or catch the faint note of the neighbouring bird; Then leaning on the two, his head he bow'd, And from the daylight pensive pass'd away. Sharp swept the wind, the thrush forsook the spray, And the poor Pilgrim wept at last aloud.