Evening Songs
XXII
The greatest hero is not he
For blows with blows who’s paying,
But he who, hundred times betrayed,
Himself knows no betraying.
Who after love can send a curse
He never felt love’s passion,
For love is able to forgive
And knows no condemnation.
Who will not bring a sacrifice
To him no love be proffered;
Bad is the priest who thinks he’s more
Than that what he has offered.
And should e’er love demand of me
My life and share in heaven—
I would go as the lamb for Thee
To whom my love I’ve given.
32
