as dazzling reds plunge from lofty wooded heights
so fade the dying embers of our passion into night
as pilgrim bird takes flight to leave his home
so must our love depart if ere to bloom
the bosom of the sun turns out her own
whilst still in sight to seek another's arms
though jealous pang inject the agony
still well I know truly folly it would be
to pray life ere resurge these veins
should I not die
and feign to set thee free
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