more than dreams, |
More than the froth, the feather, the dust-whirl, |
The crazy nothing that I think it is, |
It
shall be in the country of the dead, |
If there be such a country. |
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Dectora. No, not there, |
But in some
island where the life of the world |
Leaps upward, as if all the streams o the world |
Had run into one fountain. |
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Aibric. Speak to him. |
He knows that he is taking you to death; |
Speakhe will not deny it. |
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Dectora.
Is that true? |
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Forgael. I do not know for certain, but I know |
That I have the best of pilots. |
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Aibric. Shadows,
illusions, |
That the Shape-changers, the Ever-laughing Ones, |
The Immortal Mockers have cast into his
mind, |
Or called before his eyes. |
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Dectora. O carry me |
To some sure country, some familiar place. |
Have
we not everything that life can give |
In having one another? |
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Forgael. How could I rest |
If I refused the
messengers and pilots |
With all those sights and all that crying out? |
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Dectora. But I will cover up your
eyes and ears, |
That you may never hear the cry of the birds, |
Or look upon them. |
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Forgael. Were they
but lowlier |
Id do your will, but they are too hightoo high. |
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Dectora. Being too high, their heady prophecies |
But
harry us with hopes that come to nothing, |
Because we are not proud, imperishable, |
Alone and winged. |
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Forgael. Our love shall be like theirs |
When we have put their changeless image on. |
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Dectora. I am a
woman, I die at every breath. |
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Aibric. Let the birds scatter, for the tree is broken, |
And theres no help
in words. |
[To the Sailors.] |
To the other ship, |
And I will follow you and cut the rope |
When I have said
farewell to this man here, |
For neither I nor any living man |
Will look upon his face again. |
[The Sailors
go out.] |
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Forgael [to Dectora]. Go with him, |
For he will shelter you and bring you home. |
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Aibric [taking
Forgaels band]. Ill do it for his sake. |
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Dectora. No. Take this sword |
And cut the rope, for I go on with
Forgael. |
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Aibric [half falling into the keen]. The yew-bough has been broken into two, |
And all the birds
are scatteredO! O! O! |
Farewell! Farewell! |
[He goes out.] |
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Dectora. The sword is in the rope |
The
ropes in twoit falls into the sea, |
It whirls into the foam. O ancient worm, |
Dragon that loved the world
and held us to it, |
You are broken, you are broken. The world drifts away, |
And I am left alone with my
beloved, |
Who cannot put me from his sight for ever. |
We are alone for ever, and I laugh, |
Forgael, because
you cannot put me from you. |
The mist has covered the heavens, and you and I |
Shall be alone for ever.
We twothis crown |
I half remember. It has been in my dreams. |
Bend lower, O king, that I may crown
you with it. |
O flower of the branch, O bird among the leaves, |
O silver fish that my two hands have taken |
Out
of the running stream, O morning star, |
Trembling in the blue heavens like a white fawn |
Upon the
misty border of the wood, |
Bend lower, that I may cover you with my hair, |
For we will gaze upon this
world no longer. |
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Forgael [gathering Dectoras hair about him]. Beloved, having dragged the net about
us, |
And knitted mesh to mesh, we grow immortal; |
And that old harp awakens of itself |
To cry aloud to
the grey birds, and dreams, |
That have had dreams for father, live in us. |
in their immortal fashion;