Page:Mandragora.djvu/9

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DEDICATED
to
MARIAN POWYS


Oh lace-maker, what joys, what fears
   Do you weave into your thread?
What sorcery from the far-off years
   Hovers above your head?
Your flickering fingers are dipped deep
   In the magic-flowing stream.
Is there a sleep beneath this sleep
   And a dream beyond this dream?