When you retreat alone into the wood,
you are familiar with places forlorn,
you bow your silver horn, a unicorn,
and the poetic verse is now your food.
Look into the bright spiritual domain,
and see if heaven’s walls are high and close,
see if the door is open thee or closed,
look to the tower, the castle maintained
an archer, with a rainbow, sky to sky,
seek in thine arsenal the armour shined
for all of sixty years—thou art still mine,
beneath all sorrows that the poor would spy,
for we are never cruel nor cold, betrothed,our hearts glow with our kindness and our love.