The Statue Over the Cathedral Door

Forms of saints and kings are standing
The cathedral door above;
Yet I saw but one among them
Who hath soothed my soul with love.

In his mantle, — wound about him,
As their robes the sowers wind, —
Bore he swallows and their fledglings,
Flowers and weeds of every kind

And so stands he calm and childlike,
High in wind and tempest wild;
Oh, were I like him exalted
I would be like him a child!

And my songs, — green leaves and blossoms, —
To the doors of heaven would bear,
Calling even in storm and tempest,
Round me still these birds of air.
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Author of original: 
Julius Mosen
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