When northern winds do howl and skies turn grey,
And sorrow’s heavy shroud begins to fall,
I stand beside thee to keep the ghosts at bay,
Thy sentinel, thy shelter, and thy wall.
Speak not a word of grief, nor shed a tear,
But rest thy weary head upon my breast;
For I shall hold the weight of every fear,
That in this sanctuary thou find’st rest.
I am the granite cliff amidst the spray,
The steadfast anchor in the churning deep;
Though tides of fortune may wash hope away,
My vigil o’er thy slumber I shall keep.
Until the dawn returns with golden light,
And silence heals the tumult of the mind,
I remain thy shield through the longest night,
Where peace and strength of spirit are aligned.
In the grand tradition of Romantic verse, these lines serve not merely as comfort, but as a binding covenant—proof that love is the only structure capable of weathering the fiercest gales of existence.
