William Butler Yeats


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.

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