The frost has laid its hand upon thy brow,
And silence dwells where laughter used to be ;
Thou thinkest joy hath broken every vow,
And left thee drifting on a sunless sea.
Yet look upon the field in winter’s keep,
Beneath the shroud of snow, the seed survives.
‘Tis not a death, but just a sacred sleep,
From which the waking glory soon derives.
For as the violet breaks the frozen earth,
So shall thy spirit rise to greet the morn.
Despair shall yield unto a second birth,
And from the ash, a brighter flame is born.
Trust in the turning of the seasons’ wheel,
No night endures when dawn begins to gleam.
Time holds the balm that shall thy sorrow heal,
And wake thy heart from this unhappy dream.
Just as the Romantics found solace in the wild constancy of nature, we too must accept that emotional winters are but precursors to a flourishing spring. This verse serves as a gentle reminder that resilience is inherent in the human spirit, and that every ending is merely the soil from which a new beginning grows.
