The jonquil with its golden eye is a 

 modest flower. The narcissus, its gar- 

 den mate, has had so much legendary 

 lore hung from its snowy star that its 

 very name suggests a fairy tale. Can 

 you not see the young Narcissus in 

 the wood, tall, slender-limbed, and 

 graceful, armed with his hunting: 

 spear? No wonder he tries to forget 

 in the pleasures of the chase the im- 

 portunities of Echo, a charming nymph 

 't is true, but whose ceaseless iteration 

 serves only to annoy him. Coming 

 upon a little brook, he casts himself 

 beside it and bends forward to drink. 

 He starts back, for, as he thinks, a 

 lovely nymph of the pool rises to meet 

 him. Admiring the wealth of golden 

 curls, the blue eye and the rosy cheek, 

 he smiles at her. She smiles in answer ; 

 he thrusts his hands in the cool water 

 to meet her hands, but alas! she is 

 ever beyond his reach, and the poor 

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