Out of the desert under our feet.
AVERLAINE: May we forget how the red heart glows,
Forget that the dew on the petals is sweet?
ARKELD: Ah God, ah God, that it never had been!
AVERLAINE: The Shadow, the Shadow that falls between!
ARKELD: Have the ages brought us together that we
Might tremble, start at shadows, and cry?
AVERLAINE: Yea, it has been, and ever will be
Till Sorrow be slain or Love's self die.
ARKELD: Stronger than Sorrow is Love; and Hate,