It fades away, the weary, scar-marked brow,
But constant are the eyes that hold his gaze.
Their depths reflect his faithful striving - how?
Have they not seen the sins for which he pays?
He stands before the girl, beneath their tree.
She lifts his chin and offers his release.
The scent of lilies breathes his spirit free,
Caressing him and gladly granting peace.
No battle-ravaged penance need remain
When all is done and day at last is seen.
How sweet the Garden, vanquisher of pain!
His soul is carried on by eyes of green.
The dream of paradise has come to pass:
A boy and girl run barefoot in the grass.