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THE FLUTE<br />
For the Hyacinthian day he gave me some Panic pipes, <strong>of</strong> measured reeds wellcut,<br />
bound each to each with s<strong>of</strong>t white wax, sweet as honey to my lips.<br />
He teaches me to play, I seated on his knees; perhaps I tremble just a bit too<br />
much. He then plays after me in tones so sweet I scarce can hear them.<br />
We did not have a word to tell each other, we were so close together all the time,<br />
but the songs we sang were answers to each other, and time again our mouths<br />
would seek the flute to find each other's there.<br />
How late it is! the green night-frog commences now to sing. My mother never will<br />
believe I stayed so long to try to find the girdle that I lost.<br />
TRESSES<br />
He said to me: "Tonight I dreamed a dream.-- Your hair came down and fell about<br />
my throat. Your locks were as a yoke about my neck, a black fan spreading on my<br />
breast.<br />
"And I caressed them; and they were my own; and we were bound together thus<br />
forever, by the same tresses, mouth on mouth, like two twin laurels with a single<br />
root.<br />
"And little by little, it seemed to me, our limbs were so entwined that I became<br />
your body, or you entered into mine like some sweet dream mingling with my<br />
own."<br />
When he had finished he s<strong>of</strong>tly placed his hands upon my shoulders, and looked<br />
into my eyes with such a look I lowered them and trembled. . .<br />
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