DOWN through the red-top blooming in the sun, On to the vine-covered trees, A barefoot boy through the path I'd run Like a swallow on the evening breeze. Quick to the big rocks cropping from the ground 'Neath the trees where the sweet birds sing, With a leap and a bound I'd clamber down To drink at the meadow spring. O, the old meadow spring, To its moss-grown banks I'd cling, And with hat for a gourd I would quaff like a lord The cool, sparkling waters of the spring. Pouring from the rocks 'mid pebbles so white, And fringing the moss with pearl, Then speeding away in flashes of light To the pool with its eddying whirl. The wild mint wafts its odor from below On the sweep of the cool wind's wing, While the dark shining row of the blackberries grow On the brink of the meadow spring. O, the old meadow spring, Heaven's drink to man you bring, With the mint and the red of the purpling berry head All mirror'd in the depths of the spring. Stretched on the green grass, musing in the shade (To the drip—tinkle—drip, of the stream), I wonder if above such a spot was made For spirits in their heavenly dream. Watching the water-witch dancing about On the waves in her silvery ring, With a laugh and shout I'd put her to rout And plunge in the meadow spring. O, the old meadow spring, How I long once more to fling All my burdens aside in your silvery tide, And be a boy at the meadow spring. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CAMELOPARD by HILAIRE BELLOC CONTRA MORTEM: THE GREAT DEATH by HAYDEN CARRUTH WAITER IN A CALIFORNIA VIETNAMESE RESTURANT by CLARENCE MAJOR DOMESDAY BOOK: HENRY BAKER, AT NEW YORK by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: JOHN WASSON by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NORTH WIND TO DUTIFUL BEAST MIDWAY BETWEEN DIAL & FOOT OF GARDEN CLOCK by MARIANNE MOORE |