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 Lips like blossoms on the tree, Pink buds on the almond tree, Are mute as Death, Love, without thee, Death-mute without thee, Love! Touch them, Love! Ah, golden day! Hear what these pink petals say! ‘Thou, once born, wilt live for aye, Thou wilt live for aye, Love!’”

Then blithe Nereia turn’d her face, and look’d, Burning with beauty like the glittering sea, Full in her bridegroom’s eyes. He, mute for love, Told her such truth with them that her blest soul Could scarce contain itself. Then sang the maid: One look—and Love was there to see! One clasp—Love lock’d them tenderly! What’s Life itself, compared with thee, Dear Life, compared with thee, Love?”