Have tender voices, like a mother’s song,
Or like a passing flock of birds in flight,
While some the measure of a tune prolong
As though their waters held a lover’s voice
That whispered of delights the moon could tell.
Fountains can grieve and can as well rejoice,
Sound threnodies or ring a marriage bell.
To one attuned to hear the silver flute,
They have a message, resonant and clear;
Fountains are never silent, never mute;
They always answer to the listening ear.
Whatever in the heart deep-hidden dwells,
A starlit fountain truly, surely tells.
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