The soul from her lone dream has sure release;
The tumult and the ancient struggles cease—
The wars that Beauty wages on her lover
Dwindle into a peace,
When Schumann speaks so firmly and so sadly,
And all the twilight rustles, wave on wave.
O, at that smile his wondering spirit gave,
What new smile in all things shines back so gladly,
Grown dignified and grave!
The curtains by the window rise and flutter,