Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1834.pdf/77

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.

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1. This is the poem that follows next.