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Love’s Treacherous Pool
by [?]

(“Jeune fille, l’amour c’est un miroir.”)

[XXVI., February, 1835.]

Young maiden, true love is a pool all mirroring clear,
Where coquettish girls come to linger in long delight,
For it banishes afar from the face all the clouds that besmear
The soul truly bright;
But tempts you to ruffle its surface; drawing your foot
To subtilest sinking! and farther and farther the brink
That vainly you snatch–for repentance, ’tis weed without root,–
And struggling, you sink!