The Convalescent
O strange, O sweetly warm
Falls the sunshine on my cheek.
I taste the cordial North;
In the pines I hear him speak.
A new, a tender charm
Is in my life begun,
To joy that opens forth
As the sunflower to the sun.
Winds that with moving light
Wash heaven, and drive the showers!
Ferns uncurling free,
Wet heads of nodding flowers!
O clouds, loftily bright,
That build your domes in the blue,
Is the world new—made for me?
Is it I that am born anew?
My weak steps prove in thee,
Earth, a strength more stable.
Limbs, that fever shook,
Thy wholesome airs enable.
Life by both hands raises me
To stand firm on my feet:
Into her eyes I look
And find, to trust her, sweet.
