He journeyed on, and, as he neared the gate,
  He met with one to whom he named the maid,
Inquiring of her welfare and her state. 
  And of the matron in whose house she stayed. 
“The maiden dwelt there yet,” the townsman said;
“But, for the ancient lady,—­she was dead.”

He further said, she was but little known,
  Although reputed to be very fair,
And little seen (so much she dwelt alone)
  But with her nurse at stated morning prayer;
So seldom passed her sheltering garden wall,
Or left the gate at quiet evening fall.

Flow softly, rhymes—­his hand is on the door;
  Ring out, ye noonday bells, his welcoming—­
“He went out rich, but he returneth poor;”
  And strong—­now something bowed with suffering. 
And on his brow are traced long furrowed lines,
Earned in the fight with pirate Algerines.

Her aged nurse comes hobbling at his call;
  Lifts up her withered hand in dull surprise,
And, tottering, leads him through the pillared hall;
  “What! come at last to bless my lady’s eyes! 
Dear heart, sweet heart, she’s grown a likesome maid—­
Go, seek her where she sitteth in the shade.”

The noonday chime had ceased—­she did not know
  Who watched her, while her ringdoves fluttered near: 
While, under the green boughs, in accents low
  She sang unto herself.  She did not hear
His footstep till she turned, then rose to meet
Her guest with guileless blush and wonder sweet.

But soon she knew him, came with quickened pace,
  And put her gentle hands about his neck;
And leaned her fair cheek to his sun-burned face,
  As long ago upon the vessel’s deck: 
As long ago she did in twilight deep,
When heaving waters lulled her infant sleep.

So then he kissed her, as men kiss their own,
  And, proudly parting her unbraided hair,
He said:  “I did not think to see thee grown
  So fair a woman,”—­but a touch of care
The deep-toned voice through its caressing kept,
And, hearing it, she turned away and wept.

Wept,—­for an impress on the face she viewed—­
  The stamp of feelings she remembered not;
His voice was calmer now, but more subdued,
  Not like the voice long loved and unforgot! 
She felt strange sorrow and delightful pain—­
Grief for the change, joy that he came again.

O pleasant days, that followed his return,
  That made his captive years pass out of mind;
If life had yet new pains for him to learn,
  Not in the maid’s clear eyes he saw it shrined;
And three full weeks he stayed with her, content
To find her beautiful and innocent.

It was all one in his contented sight
  As though she were a child, till suddenly,
Waked of the chimes in the dead time of the night,
  He fell to thinking how the urgency
Of Fate had dealt with him, and could but sigh
For those best things wherein she passed him by.