We talk'd with open heart, and tongue A pair of friends, though I was young, We lay beneath a spreading oak, Beside a mossy seat; And from the turf a fountain broke And gurgled at our feet. 6 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. The Fountain 'Or of the church-clock and the chimes That half-mad thing of witty rhymes 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, '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, • 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 331 332 The Fountain But we are press'd by heavy laws; We wear a face of joy, because 'If there be one who need bemoan 6 His kindred laid in earth, The household hearts that were his own,- My days, my friend, are almost gone, 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 At this he grasp'd my hand and said, We rose up from the fountain-side; Of the green sheep-track did we glide, And ere we came to Leonard's rock About the crazy old church-clock, W. WORDSWORTH The River of Life 333 CCLXXXIII THE RIVER OF LIFE The more we live, more brief appear The gladsome current of our youth, But as the care-worn cheeks grows wan, Ye Stars, that measure life to man, When joys have lost their bloom and breath Why, as we reach the Falls of Death, It may be strange-yet who would change When one by one our friends have gone Heaven gives our years of fading strength And those of youth, a seeming length, Proportion'd to their sweetness. T. CAMPBELL 334 A Lament CCLXXXIV THE HUMAN SEASONS Four Seasons fill the measure of the year; His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings J. KEATS CCLXXXV A LAMENT O World! O Life! O Time! On whose last steps I climb, Trembling at that where I had stood before; When will return the glory of your prime? No more -O never more! Out of the day and night A joy has taken flight: Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight No more-O never more! P. B. SHELLEY |