WHERE are the swallows fled? <br /> Frozen and dead, <br />Perchance, upon some bleak and stormy shore. <br /> O doubting heart! <br /> Far over purple seas <br /> They wait, in sunny ease, <br /> The balmy southern breeze, <br />To bring them to their northern homes once more. <br /> <br />Why must the flowers die? <br /> Prison’d they lie <br />In the cold tomb, heedless of tears or rain. <br /> O doubting heart! <br /> They only sleep below <br /> The soft white ermine snow, <br /> While winter winds shall blow, <br />To breathe and smile upon you soon again. <br /> <br />The sun has hid its rays <br /> These many days; <br />Will dreary hours never leave the earth? <br /> O doubting heart! <br /> The stormy clouds on high <br /> Veil the same sunny sky, <br /> That soon (for spring is nigh) <br />Shall wake the summer into golden mirth. <br /> <br />Fair hope is dead, and light <br /> Is quench’d in night. <br />What sound can break the silence of despair? <br /> O doubting heart! <br /> Thy sky is overcast, <br /> Yet stars shall rise at last, <br /> Brighter for darkness past, <br />And angels’ silver voices stir the air.<br /><br />Adelaide Anne Procter<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/doubting-heart/
