Poems (Katz)/The dove
THE DOVE
It lay in the street wounded and bleeding The passers-by scarcely heeding The piteous appeal of Love. Baring its breast as the dove (To awaken the sleeper!)
The dove cannot ever stay, But with the noon of day, Will fly from whence her healing came— And there are no more lame.
So dear children in the street Skipping along with careless feet, Let us minister of our love To the wounded stricken dove.
What the dove desired to do Was to awaken me and you, To lift our hearts in skyward flight Away from the dark tempestuous night.
And for this the dove her breast did bare To meet the storm and tempest there, To save! to save! through love's appeal, And the perfect to reveal.