Die Taube

To-day when I beheld you all alone And might have stayed to speak, the watchful love Leapt up within my heart—then quick to prove New strength, the fruit of sorrow you have sown Sank in my stormy bosom like a stone Nor dared to rise on flaming plumes above Passionless winds, till you, O shining dove Far from the range of wounding words had flown. Far have you flown, and blows of battle cease To drape the skies in tapestries of blood, Now sinks within my heart the heaving flood And Love’s long-fluttering pinions I release, Bidding them not return till blooms the bud On olive branch, borne by the bird of peace.