He flung his pigeons up into the air;
And watched them wheel, and then steer nor'-nor'-west,
Unfaltering on the homeward course: and now
A pang of longing shot through his proud breast

To soar into the blue on clapping wings,
And follow in as swift and sure a flight;
And, with the birds, in one quick flashing hour
Reach home, instead of trudging half the night—

With them arrive, while still the evening sun
Kindled the cottage windows, and the eyes
Of wife and bairns, who watched, even now, to greet
Those travellers homing from far unknown skies.