Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;
I rave no more ’gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.

In these lines the speaker adopts a posture of deliberate calm: hands folded, no longer struggling against external forces (“wind,” “tide,” “sea”) or railing at “time or fate.” The turn comes with the assurance that what truly belongs to one—opportunity, recognition, love, or rightful outcome—will arrive without frantic striving. The imagery of maritime forces suggests life’s uncontrollable currents; serenity is presented not as passivity but as a disciplined relinquishing of resentment and anxiety. The closing “For lo!” gives the sentiment a quasi-proverbial, consolatory force, framing patience and trust as a moral and psychological victory over bitterness.