The sunset reddens o'er the lofty peak.
The sun steps down the level plain to seek.
The sparrows twitter on the wicker door—
Home!—yet so many miles have left me weak.
My wife and children start to see me here.
Surprise scarce vanquished wipes a furtive tear:
To think that swept by anarchy away
Yet Chance returns me to each bosom dear.
The garden wall with neighbors' heads is lined.
Each breast surcharging breaks in sighings kind
All night beside the candle's beam we sit,
As though in dreams and absence still we pined.