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First Line: "flow not so fast, ye fountains"
Last Line: Must still fall dropping from their spheres
Subject(s): Grief;tears; Sorrow;sadness


FLOW not so fast, ye fountains,
What needeth all this haste?
Swell not above your mountains,
Nor spend your time in waste.
Gentle springs, freshly your salt tears
Must still fall dropping from their spheres.

Weep they apace whom reason,
Or lingering time can ease:
My sorrow can no season,
Nor aught besides appease;
Gentle springs, freshly your salt tears
Must still fall dropping from their spheres.

Time can abate the terror
Of every common pain:
But common grief is error:
True grief will still remain.
Gentle springs, freshly your salt tears
Must still fall dropping from their spheres.





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