" Six feet in earth my Emma lay; For so it seemed, than till that day " And, turning from her grave, I met, Beside the churchyard Yew, A blooming Girl, whose hair was wet With points of morning dew. "A basket on her head she bare ; Her brow was smooth and white : "No fountain from its rocky cave "There came from me a sigh of pain Which I could ill confine; I looked at her, and looked again : Matthew is in his grave, yet now, XVI. THE FOUNTAIN. A CONVERSATION. We talked with open heart, and tongue Affectionate and true, A pair of Friends, though I was young, And Matthew seventy-two. We lay beneath a spreading oak, Beside a mossy seat; And from the turf a fountain broke, And gurgled at our feet. "Now, Matthew!" said I, " let us match This water's pleasant tune With some old Border-song, or Catch, Or of the Church-clock and the chimes Sing here beneath the shade, That half-mad thing of witty rhymes In silence Matthew lay, and eyed "Down to the vale this water steers, How merrily it goes! 'Twill murmur on a thousand years, And flow as now it flows. " And here, on this delightful day, I cannot choose but think How oft, a vigorous man, I lay Beside this Fountain's brink. "My eyes are dim with childish tears, My heart is idly stirred, For the same sound is in my ears " Thus fares it still in our decay: "The Blackbird in the summer trees, The Lark upon the hill, Let loose their carols when they please, Are quiet when they will. " With Nature never do they wage A foolish strife; they see A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free: " But we are pressed by heavy laws; And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy, because We have been glad of yore. "If there is one who need bemoan His kindred laid in earth, The household hearts that were his own, It is the man of mirth. " My days, my Friend, are almost gone, My life has been approved, And many love me; but by none Am I enough beloved." |