But round his brows the curls were snakes that curled,

And like his tongue a serpent's; and his voice

Speaks death, and bids rejoice.

Yet then he spake no word, seeming as dumb,

A dumb thing mild and hurtless; nor at first

From his bowed eyes seemed any light to come,

Nor his meek lips for blood or tears to thirst:

But as one blind and mute in mild sweet wise

Pleading for pity of piteous lips and eyes,

He strayed with faint bare lily-lovely feet

Helpless, and flowerlike sweet:

Nor might man see, not having word hereof,

That this of all gods was the great god Love.

And seeing him lovely and like a little child

That wellnigh wept for wonder that it smiled

And was so feeble and fearful, with soft speech

The youth bespake him softly; but there fell

From the sweet lips no sweet word audible

That ear or thought might reach:

No sound to make the dim cold silence glad,

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