The Lad Out There

I see him in the weary file;

So young he is, so dear to me,

With ever-ready sympathy

And wistful eyes and cheerful smile.

However far he travels on,

Thought follows, like the willow-wren

That flies the stormy seas again

To lands where her delight is gone.

Whatever he may be or do

While absent far beyond my call,

Bring him, the long day's march being through,

Safe home to me some evenfall!