| Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
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| Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
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| Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font;
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| The firefly wakens, waken thou with me
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| Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost
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| And like a ghost she glimmers on to me
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| Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars
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| And all thy heart lies open unto me
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| Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
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| A shining furrow, as thy thoughts, in me
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| Now folds the lily all her sweetness up
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| And slips into th bosom of the lake
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| So fold thyself, my darest, thou, and slip
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| Into my bosom and be lost in me |