Thy lips from silence dead redeemed;
But, dying ere the moment ripe
When thou should’st gather vital fire,
He left thee, a half-conscious type
Of Love and Love’s unvoiced desire.
Thou holdest me, thou holdest me,
O marble presence, cold and fair!
Now let thy prisoned soul be free,
Thy breast its long-sealed fate declare.
(The Statue speaks.)