A wife speaks to her husband after a time of grief. She says she has given him two gifts: love and sorrow, and surprisingly calls sorrow the better one. There is no coldness in that; her voice is soft and intimate. Sorrow, for her, has value because tears can clear the mind and prepare a person for peace. She urges him to come and rest beside her, asking what victory the world could deny him now that he has wept—as if grief has made him stronger or more open. Once he sleeps, she will restore all the peace that love can give. The mood is quiet, tender, and almost lullaby-like, as if she is soothing him after a long, bitter struggle. There is pain in the message—the “bitter giving”—but also deep devotion and calm.
The Wife's Song, II — Summary
Two gifts I gave you, Love and Sorrow, Of which the last is best, But O, my Dear! 'Twas bitter giving, Come here to me and rest.
What victory shall your world deny you, Now you have wept? All peace of love I will restore you When you have slept.