IV.
Lord of my life! if I am blind,
I reck not—thou canst see;
I well may wait my summer mind,
When I am sure of thee!
I made no brave bright suns arise,
Veiled up no sweet gray eves;
I hung no rose-lamps, lit no eyes,
Sent out no windy leaves!
I said not "I will cast a charm
These gracious forms around;"
My heart with unwilled love grew warm;
I took but what I found!
When cold winds range my winter-night,
Be thou my summer-door;
Keep for me all my young delight,
Till I am old no more.