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Poem by Bryan Waller Procter


For a Fountain


Rest! This little Fountain runs
Thus for aye:  It never stays 
For the look of summer suns,
Nor the cold of winter days. 
Whosoeer shall wander near,
When the Syrian heat is worst, 
Let him hither come, nor fear
Lest he may not slake his thirst: 
He will find this little river 
Running still, as bright as ever. 
Let him drink, and onward hie, 
Bearing but in thought, that I,  
Erotas, bade the Naiad fall,
And thank the great god Pan for all!



Bryan Waller Procter


Bryan Waller Procter's other poems:
  1. Golden-Tressed Adelaide
  2. Sit Down, Sad Soul
  3. In France
  4. The New-Born Baby's Song
  5. The Hunters Song


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