And so the sorrow was only a dream
  (As the sun uprises the dream departs);
  And the false false sorrow did only seem,
  And the true true joy came into our hearts.

  I had so determin’d to be resign’d,
  And to school myself to a patient mood,
  That I felt a little ill-used to find
  There was no occasion for being good.

  But oh the joy, like the sweetest surprise,
  With a light light heart and nothing to bear! 
  And oh to be looking in Harry’s eyes
  And never a fear of what I see there!

  And when earth is deck’d in eternal spring,
  Singing we go on a flowery way;
  And happiness is such a happy thing,
  And it seems so natural to be gay.

  I think that the dullest will understand
  Jack was not drown’d when he fell from the height;
  A ship passing by, as if it was plann’d,
  Carried him off mid the darkness of night. 
  He was up to the neck in debts and scrapes;
  And when the west wind refreshingly blew,
  He thought it the pleasantest of escapes
  To sail for new worlds with nothing to do. 
  Strolling and idling by day and by night,
  He liv’d by his wits, with a laugh for fate;
  And his wits not being extremely bright,
  He accomplish’d nothing remarkably great.

  Wandering ev’rywhere, ragged and poor,
  With nothing to do and plenty to say,
  By the merest chance he enter’d our door
  To ask for a meal and a bed by the way.

  So the three of us met delighted there,
  And set sail together that perfect spring,
  When the skies were fine and the winds were fair,
  And our hearts were lighter than anything.

  From the midst of the sea the white cliffs rise—­
  The snowy white cliffs of the ocean gem! 
  And they smile their welcome into our eyes
  As Harry and I smile it back on them.

  Standing together alone on the deck,
  With a hope that almost becomes a fear,
  We can watch that wonderful little speck
  Grow into places unspeakably dear.

  Is it years or days since we sail’d away? 
  And are we returning the self-same track? 
  Did we cross the ocean but yesterday? 
  And is it to-day we are coming back?

  Back to the home whence he vanish’d that night,
  In through the hall where I talk’d with the men,—­
  Can it be true that our hearts are so light? 
  When did we dream?  Is it now?  Was it then?

  And oh! to stand on the well-known road
  In the bright uncertain English weather;
  And oh! the hearts that are free from a load,
  And oh! the hands that are knit together!

  And oh! to see Rover leap to his side
  With a yell as if he doubted his sight! 
  I thought the old dog would have really died
  In his vehement agony of delight.

  And I know the present is not a dream,
  For I feel a touch and a well-known kiss;
  And they are not phantoms that shine and gleam
  From days that are past with a solemn bliss.