Rebecca

A solitary woman holds a small urn jug Her gentle hand clasped to her breast Shy eyelashes caress her pale stone cheeks. Standing for centuries before us... Guarding the cobblestone way. How many eyes have set themselves upon this fair lady? Decay and corruption have not yet possessed you. O gentle woman who guards the fountain at her feet. Quiet, still, at peace. You conceal the stories of man in your heart. I am a mere mortal to come worship at your feet.