Gently, more gently still, cradle my head in your
arms, my fevered brow and my weary eyes;
Gently, more gently still, kiss my lips, and
say to me those words that are sweeter at each
dawn when your voice repeats them, and you have
surrendered, and I love you still.
The day rises sullen and heavy; the night was
crossed by monstrous dreams; the rain and its
long hair whip our casement, and the horizon is
black with clouds of grief.
Gently, more gently still, cradle my head in your
arms, my fevered brow and my weary eyes; you are
my hopeful dawn, with its caress in your hands
and its light in your sweet words;
See, I am re-born, without pain or shock, to the
daily labour that traces its mark on my road,
and instils into my life the will to be a weapon
of strength and beauty in the golden grasp of an
honoured life.