Impromptu by Fanny Kemble

You say you’re glad I write – oh, say no 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.

 

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