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(THE REPLY OF THE FOUNTAIN.)
THE WISHING GATE.[1]
She leaned her head upon her hand,
She gazed upon that fountain lone
Which wandered by its wild flower strand
With a low, mournful, ceaseless moan.
It soothed her with a sweet deceit
Of pity, murmured on the breeze;
Ah deep the grief, which seeks to cheat
Itself with fantasies like these.
- ↑ This is the poem that follows next.