Classic Poem

I always choose the plainest food
To mend viscidity of blood.
Hail! water-gruel, healing power,
Of easy access to the poor;
Thy help love's confessors implore,
And doctors secretly adore;
To thee I fly, by thee dilute--
Through veins my blood doth quicker shoot,
And by swift currents throws off clean
Prolific particles of spleen.