Classic Poem

See these two little Brooks that slowly creep
In Snaky windings through the Plains,
I knew them once one River, swift and deep,
Blessing and blest with Poets strains.

Then touch'd by Aw, we thought some God did powr
Those flouds from out his sacred Jar,
Transforming every Weed into a Flow'r
And every Flower into a Star.

But since it broke it self, and double glides,
The Naked Banks no dress have worn.
And yon dry barren Mountain now derides
These Valleys which lost glories mourn.

O Chloris ! think how this presents thy Love,
Which when it ran but in one Streame,
We hapy Shepheards thence did thrive and prove,
And thou wast mine and all Mens Theme.

But since't hath been imparted to one more,
And in two Streams doth weakly creep,
Our Common Muse is thence grown low, and poor,
And mine as Lean as these my Sheep.

But think withall what honour thou hast lost,
Which we did to thy full Stream pay,
Whiles now that Swain that swears he loves thee most,
Slakes but his Thirst, and goes away?
O in what narrow waies our Minds must move!
We may not Hate, nor yet diffuse our Love!