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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=512877" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Two Founts. Stanzas Addressed To A Lady On Her Recovery, With Unblemished Looks, From A Severe Attack of Pain</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Twas my last waking thought, how it could be,<br>That thou, sweet friend, such anguish should'st endure<br>When straight from Dreamland came a dwarf, and he<br>Could tell the cause, forsooth, and knew the cure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Methought he fronted me with peering look<br>Fixed on my heart; and read aloud in game<br>The loves and griefs therein, as from a book;<br>And uttered praise like one who wished to blame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In every heart (quoth he) since Adam's sin<br>Two Founts there are, of Suffering and of Cheer!<br>That to let forth, and this to keep within!<br>But she, whose aspect I find imaged here,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Of Pleasure only will to all dispense,<br>That Fount alone unlock, by no distress<br>Choked or turned inward; but still issue thence<br>Unconquered cheer, persistent loveliness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As on the driving cloud the shiny Bow,<br>That gracious thing made up of tears and light,<br>Mid the wild rack and rain that slants below<br>Stands smiling forth, unmoved and freshly bright:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As though the spirits of all lovely flowers,<br>In weaving each its wreath and dewy crown,<br>Or e'er they sank to earth in vernal showers,<br>Had built a bridge to tempt the angels down.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ev'n so, Eliza! on that face of thine,<br>On that benignant face, whose look alone<br>(The soul's translucence through her crystal shrine!)<br>Has power to soothe all anguish but thine own.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A beauty hovers still, and ne'er takes wing,<br>But with a silent charm compels the stern<br>And tort'ring Genius of the Bitter Spring,<br>To shrink aback, and cower upon his urn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who then needs wonder, if (no outlet found<br>In passion, spleen, or strife,) the Fount Of Pain<br>O'erflowing beats against its lovely mound,<br>And in wild flashes shoots from heart to brain?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sleep, and the Dwarf with that unsteady gleam<br>On his raised lip, that aped a critic smile,<br>Had passed: yet I, my sad thoughts to beguile,<br>Lay weaving on the tissue of my dream:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till audibly at length I cried, as though<br>Thou hadst indeed been present to my eyes,<br>O sweet, sweet sufferer! if the case be so,<br>I pray thee, be less good, less sweet, less wise!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In every look a barbed arrow send,<br>On those soft lips let scorn and anger live!<br>Do any thing, rather than thus, sweet friend!<br>Hoard for thyself the pain, thou wilt not give!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Samuel+Taylor+Coleridge">Samuel Taylor Coleridge</a><div class=q>
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That thou, sweet friend, such anguish should'st endure
When straight from Dreamland came a dwarf, and he
Could tell the cause, forsooth, and knew the cure.

Methought he fronted me with peering look
F..."></div>
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