Chapter XV

I thought our joy had been forever dulled
Like sun that fades before the day has fled,
When sickness, to a bed of weariness,
Slowly dragged me with its arms of lead.

Garden and flow'rs were either feared or false;
The very light of day was a distress;
And my poor hands already were too weak
To hold our trembling, captive, happiness.

My desires became but evil plants
That scourged like thistles in a windy place;
I felt my heart both frozen and afire,
Then arid, and rebellious unto grace.

But, nowhere searching save in simple love,
The most consoling word of all you spoke;
And at the glowing fire of your word
I warmed myself until the daylight broke.

I was not in your eyes, as in my own,
A man belittled by disease and grief;
You plucked me flowers from the window-ledge,
And I believed in health with your belief.

You brought to me within your garments' folds
The eager air, the wind of field and wood,
Scents of the eve and odours of the dawn,
And sunlight in your kisses fresh and good.