Page:The city of dreadful night - and other poems (IA cityofdreadfulni00thomrich).pdf/146

 But in vain, in vain, would I make it fast With countless subtle twines; For ever its fire breaks out at last, And shrivels all the lines.

If you have a carrier-dove That can fly over land and sea; And a message for your Love, "Lady, I love but thee!"

And this dove will never stir But straight from her to you, And straight from you to her; As you know and she knows too.

Will you first ensure, O sage, Your dove that never tires With your message in a cage, Though a cage of golden wires?

Or will you fling your dove: "Fly, darling, without rest, Over land and sea to my Love, And fold your wings in her breast"?