I stood and gazed. A far, strange smile
Filled all her face, and as with pain
I seemed to hear her speak, or sing,
These words, that meant not anything,
Yet more than any words may mean:
"Thy blood it is," she said; then sighed:
"See where thy heart's blood beateth! here
Thy heart's blood, that my lips did drain
In life; I live by still, unseen,
Long as thy passion shall remain.—