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Ourselves the sole possessors of a spell Giving us happiness unutterable! I would compare this secrecy and shade To that fair island, whither Love conveyed His Psyche, where she lived remote from all: Life one long, lone, and lovely festival; But when the charm, concealment's charm, was known, Oh then good by to love, for love was flown! Love's wings are all too delicate to bear The open gaze, the common sun and air. There have been roses round my lute; but now I must forsake them for the cypress bough. Now is my tale of tears:—One night the sky, As if with passion darkened angrily,