When love beckons to you follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions May wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams As the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth So is he for your pruning.
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