Recovery

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.