|
Fountain, TheFountain, The
Fountain, The
A Conversation
We talk`d with open heart, and tongue
Affectionate and true,
A pair of friends, though I was young,
And Matthew seventy - two.
We lay beneath a spreading oak,
Beside a mossy seat;
And from the turf a fountain broke
And gurgled at our feet.
`Now, Matthew!` said I, `let us match
This water`s pleasant tune
With some old border - song, or catch
That suits a summer`s noon.
`Or of the church - clock and the chimes
Sing here beneath the shade
That half - mad thing of witty rhymes
Which you last April made!`
In silence Matthew lay, and eyed
The spring beneath the tree;
And thus the dear old man replied,
The gray - hair`d man of glee:
`No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears,
How merrily it goes!
`Twill murmur on a thousand years
And flow as now it flows.
`And here, on this delightful day,
I cannot choose but think
How oft, a vigorous man, I lay
Beside this fountain`s brink.
`My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirr`d,
For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.
`Thus fares it still in our decay:
And yet the wiser mind
Mourns less for what Age Takes away,
Than what it leaves behind.
`The blackbird amid leafy trees,
The lark above the hill,
Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.
`With Nature never do they wage
A foolish strife; they see
A happy youth, and their old age
Is beautiful and free:
`But we are press`d by heavy laws;
And often, glad no more,
We wear a face of joy, because
We have been glad of yore.
`If there be one who need bemoan
His kindred laid in earth,
The household hearts that were his own, -
It is the man of mirth.
`My days, my friend, are almost gone,
My life has been approved,
And many love me; but by none
Am I enough beloved.`
`Now both himself and me he wrongs,
The man who thus complains!
I live and sing my idle songs
Upon these happy plains:
`And Matthew, for thy children dead
I`ll be a son to thee!`
At this he grasp`d my hand and said,
`Alas! that cannot be.`
We rose up from the fountain - side;
And down the smooth descent
Of the green sheep - track did we glide,
And through the wood we went;
And ere we came to Leonard`s rock
He sang those witty rhymes
About the crazy old church - clock,
And the bewilder`d chimes.
|
