And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you | |
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Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself | Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth |
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
6.
9.
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