The speaker is awake at night with a grief that won’t let her rest. She notices how gentle the world is—the sighing wind, the warm breeze through the trees—and wonders why she feels so broken in the middle of all that peace. But for her, the darkness is actually a gift: a kind covering that lets her hide her wounded spirit from the world. In this single dark hour, she lets herself sink into bitter despair. Still, she does not see that despair as permanent. She tells herself that another day is coming, and with it, she will be brave again and willing to take on whatever waits. The mood is quiet, sorrowful, and intimate, but it ends on a note of self-comfort and determination.
Interim — Summary
The night was made for rest and sleep, For winds that softly sigh; It was not made for grief and tears; So then why do I cry?
The wind that blows through leafy trees Is soft and warm and sweet; For me the night is a gracious cloak To hide my soul’s defeat.
Just one dark hour of shaken depths, Of bitter black despair-- Another day will find me brave, And not afraid to dare.