THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH

THE fount the Spaniard sought in vain

Through all the land of flowers

Leaps glittering from the sandy plain

Our classic grove embowers;

Here youth, unchanging, blooms and smiles,

Here dwells eternal spring,

And warm from Hope's elysian isles

The winds their perfume bring.

Here every leaf is in the bud,

Each singing throat in tune,

And bright o'er evening's silver flood

Shines the young crescent moon.

What wonder Age forgets his staff

And lays his glasses down,

And gray-haired grandsires look and laugh

As when their locks were brown!

With ears grown dull and eyes grown dim

They greet the joyous day

That calls them to the fountain's brim

To wash their years away.

What change has clothed the ancient sire

In sudden youth? For, to!

The Judge, the Doctor, and the Squire

Are Jack and Bill and Joe!

And be his titles what they will,

In spite of manhood's claim

The graybeard is a school-boy still

And loves his school-boy name;

It calms the ruler's stormy breast

Whom hurrying care pursues,

And brings a sense of peace and rest,

Like slippers after shoes.—

And what are all the prizes won

To youth's enchanted view?

And what is all the man has done

To what the boy may do?

O blessed fount, whose waters flow

Alike for sire and son,

That melts our winter's frost and snow

And makes all ages one!

I pledge the sparkling fountain's tide,

That flings its golden shower

With age to fill and youth to guide,

Still fresh in morning flower

Flow on with ever-widening stream,

In ever-brightening morn,—

Our story's pride, our future's dream,

The hope of times unborn!