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Felicia Dorothea Hemans - Our Lady`s Well
Work rating: Low

Fount of the woods! thou art hid no more,
From Heaven`s clear eye, as in time of yore!
For the roof hath sunk from thy mossy walls,
And the sun`s free glance on thy slumber falls;
And the dim tree-shadows across thee pass,
As the boughs are sway`d o`er thy silvery glass;
And the reddening leaves to thy breast are blown,
When the autumn wind hath a stormy tone;
And thy bubbles rise to the flashing rain—
Bright Fount! thou art nature`s own again!

Fount of the vale! thou art sought no more
By the pilgrim`s foot, as in time of yore,
When he came from afar, his beads to tell,
And to chant his hymn at Our Lady`s Well.
There is heard no Ave through thy bowers,
Thou art gleaming lone `midst thy water-flowers!
But the herd may drink from thy gushing wave,
And there may the reaper his forehead lave,
And the woodman seeks thee not in vain—
—Bright Fount! thou art nature`s own again!

Fount of the Virgin`s ruin`d shrine!
A voice that speaks of the past is thine!
It mingles the tone of a thoughtful sigh,
With the notes that ring through the laughing sky;
`Midst the mirthful song of the summer-bird,
And the sound of the breeze, it will yet be heard!
—Why is it that thus we may gaze on thee,
To the brilliant sunshine sparkling free?
—`Tis that all on earth is of Time`s domain—
He hath made thee nature`s own again!

Fount of the chapel with ages grey!
Thou art springing freshly amidst decay!
Thy rites are closed, and thy cross lies low,
And the changeful hours breathe o`er thee now!
Yet if at thine altar one holy thought
In man`s deep spirit of old hath wrought;
If peace to the mourner hath here been given,
Or prayer, from a chasten`d heart, to Heaven,
Be the spot still hallow`d while Time shall reign,
Who hath made thee nature`s own again!
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