Bryan Waller Procter.

1787-1874

604    For a Fountain

REST! This little Fountain runs
   Thus for aye:—It never stays
For the look of summer suns,
   Nor the cold of winter days.
Whose’er shall wander near,
   When the Syrian heat is worst,
Let him hither come, nor fear
   Lest he may not slake his thirst:
He will find this little river
Running still, as bright as ever.
Let him drink, and onward hie,
Bearing but in thought, that I,
Erotas, bade the Naiad fall,
And thank the great god Pan for all!