The Fountain On The Square

‘Tis but rarely in the hurry
And the rivalry and worry
O; hard work that I may wander, seeking pure fresh woodland air,
So when life brims o’er with trouble
Or success seems but a bubble,
Oft I ramble to the fountain that is gurgling on the square
To the calm and stately fountain,
To the spirit-resting fountain,
To the patience-teaching fountain that is gurgling on the square.

When at night, sleep flies my pillow,
Thought, upborne on every billow
That comes surging, surging, surging, from a mighty sea of care
With its helmsman, will, contending,
Wildly roams till night’s drear ending,
If I do not seek the music of the fountain on the square-
Seek the drowsy, soothing music,
Seek the lulling, measured music,
Seek the slumber-tempting music of the fountain on the square.

When my soul lies sick with sorrow,
And its grief seems but to borrow
Vigor from the dragging moments, while approaching stalks despair
From Contrition’s tear-stained ashes,
From Remorse’s fearful lashes
Flee I soon to hear the laughter of the fountain on the square
Hear the calmly rippling laughter,
Hear the softly gurgling laughter,
Hear the gently-gloating laughter of the fountain on the square

~Frank Armfield~

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