THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH.

The knights of España, the valiant,

Sought long for the fountain of youth,

And this legend of old-time they reverenced

As an oracle uttered by Truth:

That over the foaming Atlantic,

In a kingdom of ever-bright flowers,

Safely sheltered from danger, it offered

To all who in faith sought its bowers,

A draught from its goblet like nectar—

And, thenceforth the beauties of youth,

With its loves, and its joys, all unchanging,

Remained with them ever, forsooth.

And I have a fountain upspringing

In crystalline beauty for me;

I have drunk of its waters, and gladly

To others now proffer them free.

In a cool, shady grotto it gushes,

Surrounded by sweet-perfumed flowers,

I call it my shrine for devotion,

There pass I my happiest hours.

White lilies, so pure, of the valley

Gather round it like children at home,

And violets creep to its margin,

For a kiss from its sparkling, bright foam;

The heart’s-ease peeps out from the clusters

Of lilies, to look in its face,

For often is vividly mirrored

Therein all her beauty and grace.

Though the rose from my cheek will soon vanish,

And the sheen from my tresses must fade,—

Though others will see on my forehead

The footprints that long years have made;

Yet youth is now with me, and never

Will I lose it—no! never grow old,

For the naiad that dwells in my fountain,

To me, a high secret has told.

Oh! what is the beauty of figure,

The outer youth, vain as the wind!

A beauty eternal, unfading,

I have in the heart and the mind.

My heart shall continue as youthful,

In affections and sympathies bold,

And my mind in its thoughts and its fancies

Shall never be wrinkled or old.

Ay! I will not grow old! for my fountain—

Contentment—ne’er fails to supply

Every grace, every beauty, I covet,

And I cannot her bounty deny.

A. G. H.