Aedh Hears the Cry of the Sedge by W.B. Yeats

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I wander by the edge / Of this desolate lake / Where wind cries in the sedge / _Until the axle break / That keeps the stars in their round / And hands hurl in the deep / The banners of East and West / And the girdle of light is unbound, / Your breast will not lie by the breast / Of your beloved in sleep_.

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