Cold melancholy captured me while dozing on the train,
It wrapped itself around my head, and held my tired brain;
And shivers of insanity shot up and down the sky,
Across the rolling harbour where the oystercatchers fly.
The smiling sunlight warmed me, but the clouds grew dark and grey,
Upon the brink of pouring all their sorrows on the bay:
High burdened things, don’t linger now, and don’t hold back your tears!
The springtime leaf shall drink your grief, and sing of coming years.
The future is a hidden page behind this raging storm,
Inscribed with all the stories that will give our age its form –
Dear heart, step forth in faith, and humble honesty employ:
Despondency will lose her grasp, and Grief give way to Joy.