By thee the souls of nations, like one chord
Are smote upon, and ring out sympathy;
And men talk on the streets, and by their hearths,
Of him who led to dismal, distant shores
The Crusade of the Nineteenth Century.
In that new world, where generous hearts are found
To flourish on the air of liberty,
A noble merchant fitted out a ship;
And others joined him in his kindly plan,
So deep the interest taken in thy fate.
And oh, for thee, thou princely-fortuned man,
A pale face from a northern window looks,
Forever looks, with constancy sublime.
At night, when spectral tints are in the North--
By day, when winds blow down from that bleak source--
That face peers from the window anxiously,
As if the elements might come from thee
Bearing some message to her pining heart."

As breaks the sunlight from a snow-filled cloud,
Smiles struggled through the list'ner's wintry looks.

"As land-bird with a green twig in its beak
Is welcome to the homesick ship which long
Hath tossed in foreign waters, so art thou
Welcome to me, with this consoling tale.
I am content. Weird OENE, keep me here!
And I will while away a century
In dreaming of a love which hath not failed;
Now knowing that the first to welcome me