Three Springs

O’er the world’s plain that stretches vastly, sadly,
Three hidden springs mysteriously flow;
The fount of youth — a spring that surges madly,
Whose waters murmuring and sparkling go;
Castalia’s fount whose wave of inspiration
Sings where the exiles o’er the desert press;
And last the fount that cools all heart’s pulsation
With the cool waters of forgetfulness.