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, but his lightest kiss was more sweet to me Than any caress of thine, O silver sea! His arms have held me gentlier e'en than thou, In thy liquid, green embraces, hold'st me now.

Soft and cool as his breast, is thy foam above, Even as soft as his ways and words of love. Yet was his cruelty as the jagged teeth Of the hungry, lurking rocks that lie beneath.

Over the reef thy ripples are breaking now, Curled, as the soft, dark clusters around his brow. Grim as an octopus in its darkened lair, Ghastly and sinister thoughts lay hidden there.

Pale he was and quiet, with reticent eyes, Sombre and flecked with gold as the midnight skies. They whispered the savage blood of desert kings Ran in his veins and stung him to cruel things.

Maybe; I know not,—care not—against his breast I found a secret garden of joy and rest. Yet his desire, though fierce, was a fleeting breath And mine, alas, is a flame that burns till death.

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