Page:The Land of Heart's Desire, Yeats, 1894.djvu/47

Rh .

I will go fetch the crucifix again.

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The enchanted flowers will kill us if you go.

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They turn the flowers to little twisted flames.

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The little twisted flames burn up the heart.

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I hear them call us newly-married bride.

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I will go with you.

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She is lost, alas!

(standing by the door).

Then, follow but the heavy body of clay,

And clinging mortal hope must fall from you;

For we who ride the winds, run on the waves,