Explore "The Old Spring" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ I. Under rocks whereon the rose / Like a streak of morning glows; / Where the azure-throated newt / Drowses on the twisted root; / And the brown bees, humming homeward, / Stop to suck the honeydew; / Fern- and leaf-hid, gleaming gloamward, / Drips the wildwood spring I knew, / Drips the spring my boyhood knew.
/ II. Myrrh and music everywhere / Haunt its cascades -- like the hair / That a Naiad tosses cool, / Swimming strangely beautiful, / With white fragrance for her bosom, / And her mouth a breath of song -- / Under leaf and branch and blossom / Flows the woodland spring along, / Sparkling, singing flows along.
/ III. Still the wet wan mornings touch / Its gray rocks, perhaps; and such / Slender stars as dusk may have / Pierce the rose that roofs its wave; / Still the thrush may call at noontide / And the whippoorwill at night; / Nevermore, by sun or moontide, / Shall I see it gliding white, / Falling, flowing, wild and white.