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- THE LOVER ASKS FORGIVENESS BECAUSE OF HIS MANY MOODS
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- IF this importunate heart trouble your peace
- With words lighter than air,
- Or hopes that in mere hoping flicker and cease;
- Crumple the rose in your hair;
- And cover your lips with odorous twilight and say,
- "O Hearts of wind-blown flame!
- O Winds, older than changing of night and day,
- That murmuring and longing came
- From marble cities loud with tabors of old
- In dove-grey faery lands;
- From battle-banners, fold upon purple fold,
- Queens wrought with glimmering hands;
- That saw young Niamh hover with love-lorn face
- Above the wandering tide;
- And lingered in the hidden desolate place
- Where the last Phoenix died,
- And wrapped the flames above his holy head;
- And still murmur and long:
- O piteous Hearts, changing till change be dead
- In a tumultuous song':
- And cover the pale blossoms of your breast
- With your dim heavy hair,
- And trouble with a sigh for all things longing for rest
- The odorous twilight there.
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