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Vyacheslav Ivanov
101
FOUNTAIN
Clear the fountain waters glowing,
Living streams, the well-springs flowing,
Cold, in darkling woods, a spring.
In the shed, cool stillness streaming,
O'er the well, a candle gleaming
On Christ's crown its gilding flings.
In the Eden field—a bower,
And a fountain, and a flower.
Christ, star-voiced, the spirit stills:
"Come, before the well-spring stooping,
Of my quiet waters scooping,—
For the stintless bucket fills."
