Recovery.[442]

Back, then, once more to breast the waves of life, To battle on against the unceasing spray, To sink o’erwearied in the stormy strife, And rise to strive again; yet on my way, Oh! linger still, thou light of better day! Born in the hours of loneliness: and you, Ye childlike thoughts! the holy and the true-- Ye that came bearing, while subdued I lay, The faith, the insight of life’s vernal morn Back on my soul, a clear, bright sense, new-born, Now leave me not! but as, profoundly pure, A blue stream rushes through a darker lake Unchanged, e’en thus with me your journey take, Wafting sweet airs of heaven thro’ this low world obscure.

Written under the false impression occasioned by a temporary improvement in strength.