And though so many years austere did pass
When tears did fall upon the frozen ground,
Torment’s angered storm breaks off at last
For gentler love could never, on Earth, be found.
Is this the purpose of time’s cruel delay?
In finding sweet love and love’s sweet ways?
And to be worthy of her day by day,
And of God’s great gift of lover’s gaze.
Not seasons waste, nor hearts ever grown cold
When ignorant storms, not love, nor pleasure neared.
Sad memory chimes to remind my soul
That simply to be is precious when she is here.
No need no more for lonely prayers or pain—
Her love has brought me through and out of rain.