and will not stay
ephemeral fruit she brings
like banquets be of gods
but gods partake no food
and nectar is drunk
from a mixing-bowl
and carried round
what the gods consume
if you were so deprived
you would be breathless
spiritless and mum
descending from Olympus
She stops her horse
to feed your Ichor with nectar take her ambrosia
and pour it on your hands
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