OLD TIME IS STILL A-FLYING 



Would surely deeme it to bee yvie trew: 

 Low his lascivious arms adown did creepe, 



That themselves dipping in the silver dew, 

 Their fleecy flowres they fearefully did steepe, 

 Which drops of Christall seemed for wan- 

 tones to weep. 



Infinit streames continually did well 



Out of this fountaine, sweet and faire to see, 

 The which into an ample laver fell, 



And shortly grew into so great quantitie, 

 That like a little lake it seemed to bee; 



Whose depths exceeded not three cubits hight, 

 That through the waves one might the bottom 



see, 



All pav'd with Jaspar shining bright, 

 That seemed the fountaine in that sea did 

 sayle upright. 



EDMUND SPENSER. 

 The Faerie Queene, Bk. II, Canto XII. 



Where the bee sucks, there suck I: 

 In a crowslip's bell I lie; 

 There I couch when owls do cry. 

 On the bat's back I do fly 



[33] 



