by Robert Herrick

THESE springs were maidens once that lov'd,
But lost to that they most approv'd :
My story tells by love they were
Turn'd to these springs which we see here ;
The pretty whimpering that they make,
When of the banks their leave they take,
Tells ye but this, they are the same,
In nothing chang'd but in their name.

Herrick, Robert. Works of Robert Herrick. vol I.
Alfred Pollard, ed.
London, Lawrence & Bullen, 1891. 225.

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