As the clear fountain sparkles on the hill In some flowered basin, at a cool, sweet height, Yet comes from we guess not what galleried night, Devious, untraced, and altogether ill, — So doth my love from other days distil, Through channels occult groping up to light, Deeming all labours past as thrice requite If once thou stoop thy hollowed hand to fill. Clear eyes that bend upon my love thou hast, And I would have them cloudless of dismay: I thank the chastenings of that cryptic past Where those soiled waters crept their stains away, — Those slandered days, whose riddle, now, at last, Grows plain before this fair and final day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AUGUST FIRST by HAYDEN CARRUTH MISSING THE BO IN THE HENHOUSE by HAYDEN CARRUTH MOUNTAIN VALLEY by MALCOLM COWLEY BROTHERHOOD by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SORROW SINGERS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |