II
I have a room whereinto no one enters Save I myself alone: There sits a blessed memory on a throne, There my life centres.
While winter comes and goes--oh tedious comer!-- And while its nip-wind blows; While bloom the bloodless lily and warm rose Of lavish summer.
If any should force entrance he might see there One buried yet not dead, Before whose face I no more bow my head Or bend my knee there;
But often in my worn life's autumn weather I watch there with clear eyes, And think how it will be in Paradise When we're together.