When shadows cast their pall upon thy brow,
And hope recedes like tides before the plough,
When fortune’s fickleness has left thee cold,
Know well, my love, these hands have strength to hold.
I stand a tower against the howling gale,
A granite cliff where angry waters fail;
Though tempests rage and thunder shakes the deep,
Within this harbor, thou shalt safely sleep.
Lay down the heavy burden of thy fears,
I offer thee a vessel for thy tears;
No words are needed in this sacred space,
Save for the silent solace of embrace.
Wait here until the storm has spent its might,
For I shall be thy lantern in the night;
Though all the world may crumble into dust,
I remain thy shelter and thy trust.


