With wrenched and twisted soul, I came to you. -- A storm-wracked bird goes floundering through the rain And flutters wings against a lighted pane, Entreating, struggling wildly, to break through From bitter cold. -- So I, from chaos, drew To beat my anguished cries against your brain! You let me in; or surely I had lain Defeated, with no strength to strive anew. Forgive me, if I venture soft acclaim. Somehow, I knew the agony you bore: That, while you warmed me with a steady flame, Your own great heart was passing bleak and sore. I think that God must write into His Scroll All those who, torn by grief, make others whole. |