Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart.
Can you see through the night, woman, that you stare so upon it? Man, what sparks do your eyes follow in the smouldering darkness?
Witches are moon-birds, Witches are the women of the false, beautiful moon.
To-night when the full-bellied moon swallows the stars. Grant that I know.
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