I wish the fountain’s hypnotic rhythm

Would never cease

for I am, momentarily, at peace

Listening to the splash

Of water flowing fast.

I have striven

For pleasure, and filled my leisure

With pretty flowers

Picked by many men

For a few brief hours

And then by me.

But pleasure lies in poetry

And the gentle sound

Of the fountain as she speaks to me

Is far more profound

Than wasted hours, spent amidst these painted flowers

Of whose scent

I often repent.