Classic Poem

O Fountain! in whose depths of silver green
The boughs that shade thee, beaded thick are seen,
And the white dove, nestling their heads between,
Drops chrystal from her wings;
While sparkling orbs upon thy surface swim,
Or lie in seedy rows about thy rim,
Spreading a shore of pearls around thy brim,
To tempt the faery things!

Thee never doth the fiery noontide seethe,
But here the scented violets moistly breathe,
And oft the candid bee doth warp beneath
Thy roof with echoing hum.

Fountain! thy flow is melody to me!
Thou shalt my well of inspiration be!
And to drink deep of thy translucency
Shall future poets come.