FOUNT of the woods! thou art hid no more | |
| From heaven’s clear eye, as in time of yore. | |
| For the roof hath sunk from thy mossy walls, | |
| And the sun’s free glance on thy slumber falls; | |
| And the dim tree shadows across thee pass, | 5 |
| As the boughs are swayed o’er thy silvery glass; | |
| And the reddening leaves to thy breast are blown, | |
| When the autumn wind hath a stormy tone; | |
| And thy bubbles rise to the flashing rain,— | |
| Bright fount! thou art nature’s own again! | 10 |
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| Fount of the vale! thou art sought no more | |
| By the pilgrim’s foot, as in time of yore, | |
| When he came from afar, his beads to tell, | |
| And to chant his hymn at Our Lady’s Well. | |
| There is heard no Ave through thy bowers, | 15 |
| Thou art gleaming lone midst thy water flowers! | |
| But the herd may drink from thy gushing wave, | |
| And there may the reaper his forehead lave, | |
| And the woodman seeks thee not in vain,— | |
| Bright fount! thou art nature’s own again! | 20 |
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| Fount of the virgin’s ruined shrine! | |
| A voice that speaks of the past is thine! | |
| It mingles the tone of a thoughtful sigh | |
| With the notes that ring through the laughing sky; | |
| Midst the mirthful song of the summer bird, | 25 |
| And the sound of the breeze, it will yet be heard!— | |
| Why is it that thus we may gaze on thee, | |
| To the brilliant sunshine sparkling free? | |
| ’T is that all on earth is of Time’s domain,— | |
| He hath made thee nature’s own again! | 30 |
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| Fount of the chapel with ages gray! | |
| Thou art springing freshly amidst decay; | |
| Thy rites are closed and thy cross lies low, | |
| And the changeful hours breathe o’er thee now. | |
| Yet if at thine altar one holy thought | 35 |
| In man’s deep spirit of old hath wrought; | |
| If peace to the mourner hath here been given, | |
| Or prayer from a chastened heart to Heaven,— | |
| Be the spot still hallowed while Time shall reign, | |
| Who hath made thee nature’s own again! | 40 |
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