You say you're glad I write -- oh, say not so! My fount of song, dear friend, 's a bitter well; And when the numbers freely from it flow, 'Tis that my heart, and eyes, o'erflow as well. Castalia, fam'd of yore, -- the spring divine, Apollo's smile upon its current wears: Moore and Anacreon, found its waves were wine, To me, it flows a sullen stream of tears. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEREDITY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON AN INVITE TO ETERNITY by JOHN CLARE THE MARTYRS OF THE MAINE by RUPERT HUGHES VENUS AND ADONIS by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |