A peaceful spot, a little street, br So still between the double roar br Of sea and city that it seemed br A rest in music, set before br Some clashing chords--vibrating yet br With hurried measures fast and sweet; br For so the harsh chords of the town, br And so the ocean's rythmic beat. br br A little street with linden trees br So thickly set, the belfry's face br Was leaf-veiled, while above them pierced, br Four slender spires flamboyant grace. br Old porches carven when the trees, br Were seedlings yellow in the sun br Five hundred years ago that bright br Upon the quaint old city shone. br br A fountain prim, and richly cut br In ruddy granite, carved to tell br How a good burgomeister rear'd br The stone above the people's well. br A sea-horse from his nostrils blew br Two silver threads; a dragon's lip br Dropp'd di'monds, and a giant hand br Held high an urn on finger tip. br br 'Twas there I met my little maid, br There saw her flaxen tresses first; br She filled the cup for one who lean'd br (A soldier, crippl'd and athirst) br Against the basin's carven rim; br Her dear small hand's white loveliness br Was pinkly flush'd, the gay bright drops br Plash'd on her brow and silken dress. br br I took the flagon from her hand, br Too small, dear hand, for such a weight. br From cobweb weft and woof is spun br The tapestry of Life and Fate! br The linden trees had gilded buds, br The dove wheeled high on joyous wing, br When on that darling hand of hers br I slipped the glimmer of a ring.