My heart was lock’d within a silent tomb,
Where shades of ancient sorrow dwelt in gloom.
I shy’d away from Morning’s golden gleam,
And banish’d Love as but a fever’d dream.
Yet thou didst come, not with a tempest’s might,
But as the Spring that melts the Winter’s white.
With tender hands, thou sooth’d the iron gate,
And taught my pulse to beat, to hope, to wait.
Now flows the sap beneath the frost-bound earth,
To give these wither’d boughs a second birth.
Thy patience is the sun that warms the clay,
Chasing the ghosts of Yesterday away.
Behold the lark ascending to the skies!
Reflected in the kindness of thine eyes.
No more shall Fear its icy vigil keep,
For Love hath waken’d from its dreamless sleep.
In the tradition of the great Romantics, these verses explore the restoration of the spirit through the agency of a gentle, unwavering love. It speaks to the universal truth that healing is often a quiet process, akin to the slow thaw of the earth, leading inevitably to a vibrant and joyous renewal of life.
