"Long ago he sailed away, out of sight and hearing,
Straight across the bay he went, into sunset steering.
Every day we look for him, and hope for his returning,
Every night my mother keeps the candle for him burning.
"Summer goes, and winter comes, and spring returns but never
Father's step comes to the gate. O, is he gone forever?
The great, grand ship that bore him off, think you some tempest wrecked her?"
Tears shone in little Rose's eyes, upturned to her protector.
Eagerly the bonny boy went on: "O, sir, look yonder!
In the offing see the sails that east and westward wander;
Every hour they come and go, the misty distance thronging.
While we watch and see them fade, with sorrow and with longing."
"Little Robert, little Rose!" The stranger's eyes were glistening
At his bronzed and bearded face, upgazed the children, listening;
He knelt upon the yellow sand, and clasped them to his bosom,
Robert brave, and little Rose, as bright as any blossom.
"Father, father! Is it you?" The still air rings with rapture;
All the vanished joy of years the waiting ones recapture!
Finds he welcome wild and sweet, the low-thatched cottage reaching,
But the ship that into sunset steered, upon the rocks lies bleaching.
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