He bore her to his home 'twixt life and death, <br />By mute connivance of the slumbering streets, <br />Bore her redeemed to a new world of breath <br />And peace divine, belike the Paraclete's. <br />There lay she in his hands for many days <br />Speechless, unasking,--only in her soul <br />The wonder grew at love's mysterious ways <br />Which had outwitted grief and proved her fool. <br />Ay, fool in sooth, unblest by her own will, <br />Yet now by chiding of love's guidance blest, <br />Who, sparing all, of all now found her fill, <br />And lost to love was now of love the guest. <br />Dreaming she lay, with visions in her eyes <br />Of a new world where women all were wise.<br /><br />Wilfrid Scawen Blunt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/natalia-s-resurrection-sonnet-xxix/
