Two feet—they meet; they part, now swift, now slow
They pace to music through one palace hall.
Two eyes—they move in concord: wanderers long,
At last they rest on one unmoving star:
Two mouths, in kisses met, dispart in song—
Sweet are our meetings; sweet our partings are.
XIV.
I come, I go; yet neither shall repine:
Sad is the parting; the return is sweet:
Once more the battle with a voice divine