Page:Poems Cook.djvu/221

"There is a fount in the realms above,
 With a bubbling stream that hath no end;
Where the red rose dips its fadeless lips
 In the waters where Life and Affection blend.

"As the gates of that realm are open to me,
 Why I oftentimes choose to wander there;
And I never return, but I bring two or three
 Of the flowers whose tint is beyond compare.

"I do not pluck many, because I have learnt.
 'Tis in very few bosoms those flowers can thrive;
The soil must be the same as the spot whence they came
 Where such exquisite blossoms will deign to live.

"By chance, I discover a spirit of worth,
 As strong as the eagle, though soft as the dove,
That spurns my ephemeral roses of earth,
 And will not be bribed by a butterfly love.

"So, deep in that heart I ingraft the stem
 That blunts your cormorant scythe, old friend;
And try as you will, 'twill conquer you still,
 For it never is known to break or bend.

'Tis a flower that nothing below can destroy;
 'Tis unwither'd by Poverty, Age, or Pain;
So take for once the advice of a boy,
 And never go wasting your labour again."

Time turn'd away on his iron-shod heel,
 Muttering, after a short "Good night"—
"I think such a heart must be parcel and part
 Of a very great fool," and Time was right.

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