You say you're glad I write -- oh, say not so! My fount of song, dear friend, 's a bitter well; And when the numbers freely from it flow, 'Tis that my heart, and eyes, o'erflow as well. Castalia, fam'd of yore, -- the spring divine, Apollo's smile upon its current wears: Moore and Anacreon, found its waves were wine, To me, it flows a sullen stream of tears. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON THE LOSS OF HIS MISTRESSES by ROBERT HERRICK MISGIVINGS (1860) by HERMAN MELVILLE THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: MAY by EDMUND SPENSER TRAILING ARBUTUS by HENRY ABBEY THE PASQUE FLOWER by STELLA PFEIFFER BAISCH MY LETTERS by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM PSALM 111 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE LIE-AWAKE SONGS: 1 by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR FOUR EPISTLES: MIRACLE AT THE FEAST OF PENTECOST: 1 by JOHN BYROM |