There is no other happier than I, Neither shipwrecked who finally reached land, Washed up and shivering, ready to die, And humbled on his knees by heaven’s plan; Nor happier the man who felt the noose Wound tight around his neck moments before, Than I who see Love’s sword finally sheathed After so many days and nights of war. And all of you who praised Love in your verse, Now, to one led by amorous intellect, Praise him who earlier had lost his course; There lies more glory among the elect For one converted soul, and greater worth, Than for ninety-nine of the most perfect.
Featured in New Lyre Summer 2023