Dreams, that elude the Maker'sfrenzied grasp--
Hands, stark and still, on adead Mother's breast.
Which nevermore shall renderclasp for clasp,
Or deftly soothe a weeping Childto rest--
In suchlike forms me listethto portray
My Tale, here ended. Thou deliciousFay--
The guardian of a Sprite thatlives to tease thee--
Loving in earnest, chiding butin play
The merry mocking Bruno! Who,that sees thee,
Can fail to love thee, Darling,even as I?--
My sweetest Sylvie we must say`Good-bye!'
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