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Pour not water on the faces of the pure lovers themselves
Pour only the hearts blood of disconsolate penitents
The blood of 2000 foolish ascetics
Pour upon the earth, & do not pour the cup upon the earth.

 

P 670

The day when the blessed hosts of this earthly fane
The bridlehand over the courser of self regain,
Strew thou me not, like the tulip, with bloody rain,
Or forth from the dust of thy street I shall rise again.'

Th 840

That Day of this clay house the sanctified
Again the steed of their own bodies ride,
Like tulip do not moisten me with blood,
Or ris'en from thy street's dust I may abide.

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