A FOUNTAIN in our green New England hills Sent forth a brook, whose music, as I stood To listen, laughed and sang through field and wood With mingled melodies of joyous rills. Now, following where they led, a river fills Its channel with a wide calm shining flood Still murmuring on its banks with changeful mood. So, Poet, sound thy "stops of various quills," Where waves of song, wit, wisdom charm our ears As in thy youth, and thoughts and smiles by turns Are ours, grave, gay, or tender. Time forgets To freeze thy deepening stream. The stealthy years But bribe the Muse to bring thee amulets That guard the soul whose fire of youth still burns. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A HYMN [TO THE NAME AND] IN HONOR OF SAINT TERESA by RICHARD CRASHAW OLD MOTHERS by CHARLES SARSFIELD ROSS THREE FLOWERS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH IN ANSWER TO QUESTION FROM GREEK GRAMMAR: WHAT FUTURES SPEAK by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD AN ANCIENT PATH by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN TO CATULLUS by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES |