146
Sylvie:
Bring me a draught from yonder brimming urn
A drowsy river-nymph lets lean, and drip,
Just now it were as welcome as a cup
Drawn from the faëry people's wishing-well,
'The well in the wood, where the dearest dream comes true'
Our grandames, spinning, us'd to sing us of.
Colette:
I had forgotten the strange old spinning song.
'The well in the wood, where the dearest dream comes true,
The wood where grows the herb of Heart-content,
O'er which the trusting youth or maiden, bent,
Finds dream-fulfilment, aye, and Hearts'-ease too!'
That's but the burthen, I forget the song!
