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Peter von Poehl
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Elisabeth
The beautiful Elisabeth,
Dachs by her feet and spirits rising high.
A falcon and the whitest dove,
With St. Martin's luck
And a taste for courtly love.
“One minute more,”
She said, and asked,
“Isn't it strange that even death
Wears a mask.”
If it's to go where young hearts break,
Then I'm too old
And I've made too many mistakes.
The beautiful Elisabeth,
Dachs by her feet and spirits rising high.
With secrets not to be revealed,
You have my word,
They wear the wind's golden seal.
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