Hath made that foe, who may come back to thee,

And see thy truth. Be great and say: I have

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No foe! I smile, and they are nought! A breath

May lay them low, so low that they must call

To me for help! Then is thy vengeance ripe!

Give help with gentle pity. Feel that thou

Art ready with a well of living waters,

With flowers still more lovely than before.

Keep down the flames that make thee a volcano.

Let lovely warmth be all their strength. For thou

Art called upon to love and not to hate,

To help and not to punish, as thine eyes

Are far too weak to see the consequence

Of human anger. Even the volcano

Is aimless, powerless, like Fate itself,

And thou canst not be Fate. Ah! Be thou then

A human heart amongst poor human hearts!

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