The College Pump.
IN Summertide, beneath high-vaulted shade,
In Winter, frosted all with glistering rime,
In chanting Spring, or Autumn’s sullen time
When sodden leaves their tawny beds have made—
Alike when spendthrift Sun his gold afar
Downthrows, or earth lies shrouded all in cold,
By evil men and good, by young, by old,
In every season blessed thy waters are.
Grandsires and children drink with solaced eyes.
Dazed revellers early come with thirsty shame
Beneath gray glimmering of the sober skies.
All day men pause; and some, at eventide,
Poets, have hallowed with their touch thy name,
And with their lips thy waters sanctified.