Yes, thou shalt smile again! Time always heals, In Youth, the wounds of sorrow. O! survey Yon now subsided Deep, thro' night a prey To warring winds, and to their furious peals Surging tumultuous. Yet, as in dismay, The settling billows tremble—morning steals Grey on the rocks; and soon, to pour the day From the streaked east, the radiant Orb unveils, In all his pride of light. Thus shall the glow Of beauty, health, and hope, by soft degrees Spread o'er thy breast; disperse these storms of woe: Wake with soft Pleasure's sense, the wish to please, Till from those eyes the wonted lustres flow, Bright as the Sun, on calm, and crystal Seas.
Anna Seward (1742-1809)
Reimagined form by Prontobard (2022)