“The fount of joy was bubbling in thine eyes,Dancing was in thy feet,And on thy lips a laugh that never dies,Unutterably sweet. Dance on! for ever young, for ever fair,Lightfooted as a frightened bounding deer,Thy wreath of vine-leaves twisted in thy hair,Through all the changing seasons of the year...”

Vita Sackville-West

Vita Sackville-West - “The fount of joy was bubbling in...” 1

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