The comb is gold, but golderthe song the siren singsof mortal love and older

love with the sound of wings.

The boatman, rapt and riven,steers for the voice, as ifthe beetling rocks were heaven,and Peter in the skiff.

And when the waters swallowhis boat, the man will diebewitched, like all who followand lose, their Lorelei.

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