A Fantasy

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<Helen of Troy and Other Poems

Her voice is like clear water
      That drips upon a stone
In forests far and silent
      Where Quiet plays alone.

Her thoughts are like the lotus
      Abloom by sacred streams
Beneath the temple arches
      Where Quiet sits and dreams.

Her kisses are the roses
      That glow while dusk is deep
In Persian garden closes
      Where Quiet falls asleep.

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