Cynthia's Revels, Act I., Sc. ii.
Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time with my salt tears ;
Yet slower, yet ; O faintly gentle springs :
List to the heavy part the music bears,
Woe weeps out her division, when she sings.
Droop herbs and flowers ;
Fall grief in showers ;
Our beauties are not ours ;
O, I could still,
Like melting snow upon some craggy hill,
Drop, drop, drop, drop,
Since nature's pride is, now, a withered daffodil.
The Songs and Poems of Ben Jonson.
London: Philip Allan & Co., 1924. 1.
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