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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540133" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Fountain</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A Conversation</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We talked with open heart, and tongue<br>Affectionate and true,<br>A pair of friends, though I was young,<br>And Matthew seventy-two.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We lay beneath a spreading oak,<br>Beside a mossy seat;<br>And from the turf a fountain broke<br>And gurgled at our feet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`Now, Matthew!' said I, `let us match<br>This water's pleasant tune<br>With some old border-song, or catch<br>That suits a summer's noon;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`Or of the church-clock and the chimes<br>Sing here beneath the shade<br>That half-mad thing of witty rhymes<br>Which you last April made!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In silence Matthew lay, and eyed<br>The spring beneath the tree;<br>And thus the dear old man replied,<br>The grey-haired man of glee:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`No check, no stay, this streamlet fears,<br>How merrily it goes!<br>'Twill murmur on a thousand years<br>And flow as now it flows.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`And here, on this delightful day,<br>I cannot choose but think<br>How oft, a vigorous man, I lay<br>Beside this fountain's brink.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`My eyes are dim with childish tears,<br>My heart is idly stirred,<br>For the same sound is in my ears<br>Which in those days I heard.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`Thus fares it still in our decay:<br>And yet the wiser mind<br>Mourns less for what Age takes away,<br>Than what it leaves behind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`The blackbird amid leafy trees,<br>The lark above the hill,<br>Let loose their carols when they please,<br>Are quiet when they will.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`With Nature never do they wage<br>A foolish strife; they see<br>A happy youth, and their old age<br>Is beautiful and free:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`But we are pressed by heavy laws;<br>And often, glad no more,<br>We wear a face of joy, because<br>We have been glad of yore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`If there be one who need bemoan<br>His kindred laid in earth,<br>The household hearts that were his own, - <br>It is the man of mirth.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`My days, my friend, are almost gone,<br>My life has been approved,<br>And many love me; but by none<br>Am I enough beloved.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`Now both himself and me he wrongs,<br>The man who thus complains!<br>I live and sing my idle songs<br>Upon these happy plains:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">`And, Matthew, for thy children dead<br>I'll be a son to thee!'<br>At this he grasped my hand and said<br>`Alas! that cannot be.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We rose up from the fountain-side;<br>And down the smooth descent<br>Of the green sheep-track did we glide;<br>And through the wood we went;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And ere we came to Leonard's Rock<br>He sang those witty rhymes<br>About the crazy old church-clock,<br>And the bewildered chimes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=William+Wordsworth">William Wordsworth</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=540133" data-title="The Fountain de William Wordsworth" data-description="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 ou..."></div>
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