Two Emigrants

HE left his staff, his scrip, his shoon,
And in the first gray dawning light,
When dropped the weary, waning moon,
He said, “Farewell!” and passed from sight.
We watched him go, and held his hand
To the last lonely point of land.
There came to us, one winter night,
A stranger from an unknown land :
He had no staff, no scrip, no shoon,
No word that we could understand;
A traveler without a name,
Who could not tell us whence he came.
Barbara Heaton.