And the fleeing clouds of heaven,
Bending low at God's command,
Spilled their tribute from the ocean
On the long-forsaken land,
And the sun, with mellow kindness
Spread abroad his softened rays,
Calling bud and blade and blossom
From their sleep of many days,
Billy heard, at last, the music
Of the glad earth's jubilee,
Felt a new strength stir within him,
And a longing to be free.


13

One day, o'er the hill's low summit,
Whence the prairie dipped away,
There appeared a moving wagon
With its canvas patched and gray,
Like a vessel on the ocean
Under taut and close-reefed sail,
Rising slowly on the billows
Heaped up by the driving gale.
Veering towards the little dug-out,
Making for a friendly shore,
Heaving to, the schooner anchored
Close beside the open door.
Loud and hearty were the greetings,
For the driver of the team