Cloistered

Seal thou the window! Yea, shut out the light And bar my door to all the airs of spring. Yet in my cell, concealed from curious sight, Here will I sit and sing. Deaf, blind, and wilt Thou have me dumb, also, Telling in silence these sad beads of days? So let it be: though no sweet numbers flow, My breath shall be Thy praise. Yea, though Thou slay the life wherein men see The upward-mounting flame, the failing spark, My heart of love, that heart Thou gavest me, Shall beat on in the dark.

Collection: 
English
Alice Brown

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