Life is for those who leave _Home_ with regret,
And greet it again as the sailor greets shore,
Gaily returning to life gone before.'

Thus from the banquet two lovers depart,
Owning thy truth, lovely voice of my heart;
Seeking a home that, whatever befall,
Is brighter and sweeter and dearer than all;
Better than all that the world can decree,
For happy young creatures like Harry and me!

Self-ordained critics, we sit at our ease,
Life spread before us to judge as we please;
Harry in quite a ridiculous way
Prates about wine, like a swell in a play;
Next, the made dishes proceeding to scan,
With wisdom becoming a greedy old man;
Looking so charmingly youthful and gay,
I laugh in his face at his airs of _gourmet_;
Admitting myself but three things to be nice--
Champagne, lobster salad, and strawberry ice.

Then pass the people in sparkling review;
I ask fifty questions beginning with Who?
Midnight approaches--a sense of repose
Floating about me, my eyelids half close;
Rising, I languidly say, 'By the bye,
Who is the Captain?' he laughs in reply,
Stands up in front of me, just face to face,
Makes me a bow with an air and a grace: