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384

AN INDIAN LEGEND

On the mountain by the fountain,
When the moon shone overhead,
While the maiden by him wavered,
Low upon his reed he quavered,
Piped and played and singing said,—
“Listen and be comforted!
Heart of mine, be comforted!”
On the mountain by the fountain
When the moon shone overhead.
By the fountain on the mountain,
So the Indian legend saith,
Paler, paler grew the maiden,
Paler as if sorrow laden,
Frailer, paler at each breath,
Saying, “Art thou Love or Death?”
And he answered, “I am Death.”
By the fountain on the mountain
So the Indian legend saith.
Gone the mountain and the fountain
Where the maiden's soul was lost:
But in every stream you hear it
Whispering, sighing, like a spirit,
Hear the Indian maiden's ghost,
In the foam as white as frost,
Whiter than the winter's frost:
Gone the mountain and the fountain
Where the maiden's soul was lost.