Текст оригинала на английском языке
SHE knew it not:—most perfect pain To learn: this too she knew not. Strife For me, calm hers, as from the first. 'Twas but another bubble burst Upon the curdling draught of life,— My silent patience mine again. As who, of forms that crowd unknown Within a distant mirror's shade, Deems such an one himself, and makes Some sign; but when the image shakes No whit, he finds his thought betray'd, And must seek elsewhere for his own.
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