'When Narcissus died, the Flowers of the Fields were plunged in grief, and asked the River for drops of water that they might mourn for him.
'"Oh," replied the River, "if all my drops of water were tears, I should not have enough to weep for Narcissus myself—I loved him."
'"How could you help loving Narcissus?" rejoined the Flowers, "so beautiful was he."
'"Was he beautiful?" asked the River.
'"And who should know that better than yourself?" said the Flowers, "for, every day, lying on your bank, he would mirror his own beauty in your waters."'
Wilde stopped for a moment, and then went on:—
'"If I loved him," replied the River, "it is because when he hung over my waters I saw the reflection of my waters in his eyes."'
[Quoted from “Oscar Wilde: In Memoriam”, by Andre Gide.]