Fine woven purple linen
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I bring thee from Phocæa,
That, beauty upon beauty,
A precious gift may cover
The lap where I have lain.
And a gold comb, and girdle,
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And trinkets of white silver,
And gems are in my sea-chest,
Lest poor and empty-handed
And I have brought from Tyre
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A Pan-flute stained vermilion,
Wherein the gods have hidden
Love and desire and longing,
Which I shall loose for thee.