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Glass antique! 'twixt thee and Nell Draw we here a parallel! She, like thee, was forced to bear All reflections, foul or fair. Thou art deep and bright within, Depths as bright belong'd to Gwynne; Thou art very frail as well, Frail as flesh is,--so was Nell.

Pleasures lie thickest where no pleasures seem; There's not a leaf that falls upon the ground but holds some joy of silence or of sound, Some sprite begotten of a summer dream.