...

My heart is like a broken hidden town,
laying, dead and pale, in some deserted places ;
no people in the streets in serene paces,
no children at the windows, looking down.

Is it easy come up here ? Not at all.
But if Thou came, restoring life and light
in it, I know Thou hadn't any fight :
this town hath not, and never had, a wall.

Not seeking, step by step, Thou found the way.
And now my town is wak'd in wonder new
and seems to live a joy it hardly knew.

But after Sun come clouds, fading his hue.
And if my town wants profit by that ray,
Melancholy is the price it hath to pay.