Classic Poem

When you the sunburnt pilgrim see
Fainting with thirst, haste to the springs,
Mark how at first with bended knee
He courts the crystal nymph, and flings
His body to the earth, where he
Prostrate adores the flowing deity.

But when his sweaty face is drenched
In her cool waves, when from her sweet
Bosom his burning thirst is quenched,
Then mark how with disdainful feet
He kicks her banks, and from the place
That thus refreshed him moves with sullen pace.

So shalt thou be despised, fair maid,
When by the sated lover tasted;
What first he did with tears invade
Shall afterwards with scorn be wasted;
When all thy virgin-springs grow dry,
When no streams shall be left but in thine eye.