Is it true what have been said? That faith creates the finest looks That beauty grows from winter trees From icy moors and stiffened seas. And is it true that the bare branches Have caught all life in the early buds And young days of shining smiles give pure mirth and spiritual light. Can I trust my sleeping mind? In these so early moments That tender, but flickering flames From my gloomy windows, move Like gracious but shivering signs. And in my options of accepted audit will I hereby leave for more a day? To give an unbroken substantial limit To find itself and in that, thyself to stay. Copyright 13th of March kc.