Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears;
Yet, slower, yet; O faintly, gentle springs:
List to the heavy part the music bears,
Woe weeps out her division, when she sings.
Droop herbs, and flowers,
Fall grief in showers,
Our beauties are not ours:
O, I could still,
Like melting snow upon some craggy hill,
Drop, drop, drop, drop,
Since nature's pride is, now, a withered daffodil.
Slow, Slow, Fresh Fount
Ben Jonson
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Poem topics: grief, music, nature, pride, snow, time, fresh, gentle, heavy, slow, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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