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I'll tell thee, love, a tale,—just such a tale As you once said my lips could breathe so well; Speaking as poetry should speak of love, And asking from the depths of mine own heart The truth that touches, and by what I feel For thee, believe what others' feelings are. There, leave the sail, and look with earnest eyes; Seem not as if the worldly element In which thou movest were of thy nature part, But yield thee to the influence of those thoughts That haunt thy solitude;—ah, but for those I never could have loved thee; I, who now Live only in my other life with thee; Out on our beings' falsehood!—studied, cold, Are we not like that actor of old time, Who wore his mask so long, his features took