THE FOUNTAIN.

LITTLE spring of water rose Within a shady grot; It bubbled up all bright and pure, And freshened that sweet spot. Clear as a crystal was its wave, And I was very sure The waters were so pure and sweet, Because the fount was pure. So when from little lips there flow Words that are kind and good, And thoughts that are as fresh and sweet As violets in a wood, The reason we can understand, For, oh, we may be sure The thoughts and words are pure and sweet Because the fount is pure.