Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
The Bubbling Fountain
By Helen Hoyt
THIS is a magic cup
That needs no lifting up,
And gushes the cool drink
From an ever flowing brink,
From an ever filling hollow.        5
As you swallow,
You can feel the water go
Against your lips with tumbling flow
And all its noises hear:
As if you were a deer        10
Or a wild goat,
Sucking the water into your throat
Where a little brook goes by
Under the trees and the summer sky.
Oh it is fun to drink this way!—        15
Like a pleasant game to play,
Not like drinking in other places;
And it is fun to watch the faces
That come and bend them at this urn.
Something you can learn        20
Of each person’s secret mind:
Know which is selfish, which is kind:
Those who guard their dignity.
And those whose curiosity
Is turning cold.        25
Many of the young are old,
And think
A drink is nothing but a drink,
Water is water—always the same;
They could not turn it into a game.        30
Charily, with solemn mien,
They lean—
These incurious of heart—
And hurrying depart.
But the children know it’s a gay rare thing        35
To drink outdoors from a running spring;
And laugh
And quaff,
As if their inquisitive zest
Would challenge to a test        40
The bounty of this store
Which gives, and still has more.
They drink up all they can:
Wait in turn to drink again.
As I watch the reaching lips        45
It seems to be my mouth that sips:
I stoop and rise with each one.
But when they are done,
And their faces touched with spray,
They quickly wipe it away.        50
And this, sometimes, I regret,—
Because their lips look prettier, wet.

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