Poems (Acton)/The Old Grey Fountain

THE OLD GREY FOUNTAIN. ——

The old grey fountain 'neath the lime,
 Methinks I see it now;
Its sparkling stream full many a time
 Hath bathed my sunburnt brow!
When in the sultry summer day
 Through winding lane and glade,
While round the path the wheat-ears lay,
 My youthful footsteps strayed.

The old grey fountain 'neath the lime!
 Those joyous days are o'er;
I see it in its autumn prime
 And prize it even more;
For loved companions seem to stand
 Its mossy front beside,
And mirrored is that kindred band
 Within the crystal tide.

The old grey fountain 'neath the lime
 E'en autumn's hours have passed,
Yet o'er its bank of scented thyme
 Sweet memories are cast.
The ivy round the stone that crept,
 The willow bending nigh,
Which with its graceful branches swept
 The stream that murmured by.

The old grey fountain 'neath the lime,
 Long may it scathless stand;
Carved o'er and o'er with village rhyme
 By many a rustic hand.
Still round its base the daisies gleam
 Beneath the drooping bough,
As when a child within its stream
 I plunged my sunburnt brow!
H. A.