Of girls who o'er the brink were wont to peep,
With shy eyes seeking in the depths the graces
Made dear and lovely to them by love's praise.
Can all have passed away and left no traces?
They dreamed, as we too dream, through summer days,
And hid their white thoughts in such water-lilies
As float here now. Flowers do not change their ways.
Ah, love, to-day the lucent water still is
As tho' no rosy finger-tips had dipped
And dabbled it, and hushed the fountain's rill is.