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Page 282

BOOK FOURTH
282 THE FOUNTAIN

A Conversation

We talk'd 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
That suits a summer's noon;

`Or of the church-clock and the chimes
Sing here beneath the shade
That half-mad thing of witty rhymes
Which you last April made!'

In silence Matthew lay, and eyed
The spring beneath the tree:
And thus the dear old man replied,
The grey-hair'd man of glee:

`No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears,
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 stirr'd,
For the same sound is in my ears
Which in those days I heard.

'Thus fares it still in our decay:
And yet the wiser mind
Mourns less for what age takes away,
Than what it leaves behind.

`The blackbird amid leafy trees,
The lark above 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 press'd by heavy laws;
And often, glad no more,
We wear a face of joy, because
We have been glad of yore.

`If there be 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.'

`Now both himself and me he wrongs,
The man who thus complains!
I live and sing my idle songs
Upon these happy plains:

'And, Matthew, for thy children dead
I'll be a son to thee!'
At this he grasp'd my hand and said,
`Alas! that cannot be.'

We rose up from the fountain-side;
And down the smooth descent
Of the green sheep-track did we glide;
And through the wood we went;

And, ere we came to Leonard's rock,
He sang those witty rhymes
About the crazy old church-clock
And the bewilder'd chimes.
W. WORDSWORTH.

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE A Conversation We talk'd 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 what is 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 That suits a summer's noon; `Or of what is church-clock and what is chimes Sing here beneath what is shade That half-mad thing of witty rhymes Which you last April made!' In silence Matthew lay, and eyed what is spring beneath what is tree: And thus what is dear old man replied, what is grey-hair'd man of glee: `No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears, 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 where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Golden Treasury (1932) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 282 where is strong BOOK FOURTH where is strong 282 what is FOUNTAIN where is p align="justify" A Conversation We talk'd 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 what is 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 That suits a summer's noon; `Or of what is church-clock and what is chimes Sing here beneath what is shade That half-mad thing of witty rhymes Which you last April made!' In silence Matthew lay, and eyed what is spring beneath what is tree: And thus what is dear old man replied, what is grey-hair'd man of glee: `No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears, 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 stirr'd, For what is same sound is in my ears Which in those days I heard. 'Thus fares it still in our decay: And yet what is wiser mind Mourns less for what age takes away, Than what it leaves behind. `The blackbird amid leafy trees, what is lark above what is 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 press'd by heavy laws; And often, glad no more, We wear a face of joy, because We have been glad of yore. `If there be one who need bemoan His kindred laid in earth, what is household hearts that were his own, It is what is man of mirth. 'My days, my friend, are almost gone, My life has been approved, And many what time is it me; but by none Am I enough beloved.' `Now both himself and me he wrongs, what is man who thus complains! I live and sing my idle songs Upon these happy plains: 'And, Matthew, for thy children dead I'll be a son to thee!' At this he grasp'd my hand and said, `Alas! that cannot be.' We rose up from what is fountain-side; And down what is smooth descent Of what is green sheep-track did we glide; And through what is wood we went; And, ere we came to Leonard's rock, He sang those witty rhymes About what is crazy old church-clock And what is bewilder'd chimes. W. WORDSWORTH. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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