The song that soars, and reads
the starry runes,
And swoons !
None but the dead
can tune
the lyre of love !
Come, love, thy body serpentine and bright
!
What love is this,
the heart of sombre hght.
Impossible,
and therefore infinite ?
Sheer height !
None but the dead can twine the limbs of love.
Come, love !
My body in thy passion weeps
Tears keen as dewfall's, salter than
the deep's.
My bosom !
How its fortress wakes, and leaps,
And sleeps
!
None but the dead can sleep the sleep of love !
Come, love, caress
me with endearing eyes !
Light the long rapture that nor fades nor flies
!
Love laughs and lingers, frenzies, stabs,
and sighs.
And dies !
None but the dead can know the worth of love !
[ Tannhduser
sleeps.
Venus.
Sleep on, poor fool, and in thy sleep forlorn
Defy the very beauty that thou seekest
!
Now is the solemn
portal of the dusk
Lifted ; and in the gleaming silver-gray,
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