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And his road lay through ruined villages. Though cold, the ashes still were red, for blood Had quenched the flames; and aged men sat down And would not leave the embers, for they said They were too old to seek another home. met with one whom he had known In other days, and asked of his own valley:— It yet was safe, unscathed by the war-storm. He knelt down in deep thankfulness; and then, Through death and danger, sought the grove once more.

His way had been through a thick beechen wood; The moon, athwart the boughs, had poured her light, Like Hope, to guide him onwards. One more turn and he should gaze upon his home! He paused in his heart's overflowing bliss,