THESE springs were maidens once that loved, But, lost to that they most approved, My story tells, by Love they were Turned to these springs which we see here; The pretty whimpering that they make, When of the banks their leave they take, Tells ye but this, they are the same, In nothing changed but in their name. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING'S NEBRASKA by KAREN SWENSON THE RAT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES ON A CURATE'S COMPLAINT OF HARD DUTY by JONATHAN SWIFT A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN by ALFRED TENNYSON FAST ANCHOR'D ETERNAL O LOVE! by WALT WHITMAN |