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THE SONG OF THE SIREN.
They can see the beaded froth, the ruby glitter of the wine,
Then I slip from their embraces like a breath of summer air:
Oh, I lightly, lightly glide away, they come no nigher me,
For I am the siren, the siren of the sea.

Sometimes I float along a-standing in a boat,
Before the ships becalmed, where dusky sailors stand,
And the helmsman drops his oar, and the lookout leaves his glass,
So I beckon them, and lure them, with the whiteness of my hand;
Oh, this the song I sing, well they listen unto me?
For I am the siren, the siren of the sea.

    Would you from toil and labor flee,
    Oh float ye out on this wonderful sea,
    From islands of spice the zephyrs blow,
    Swaying the galleys to and fro;
    Silken sails and a balmy breeze
    Shall waft you unto a perfect case.

    Fold your hands and rest, and rest,
    The sun sails on from the east to the west,
    The days will come, and the days will go,
    What good can man for his labor show
    In passionless peace, come float with me
    Over the waves of this wonderful sea.