He.- Dear, I must be gone
While night Shuts the eyes
Of the household spies;
That song announces dawn.
She.- No, night’s bird and love’s
Bids all true lovers rest,
While his loud song reproves
The murderous stealth of day.
He.- Daylight already flies
From mountain crest to crest
She.- That light is from the moon.
He.- That bird…
She.- Let him sing on,
I offer to love’s play
My dark declivities.
-William Butler Yeats
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