Between the springs of six and seven,
⁠Two fresh years' fountains, clear
Of all but golden sand for leaven,
⁠Child, midway passing here,
As earth for love's sake dares bless heaven,
⁠So dare I bless you, dear.

Between two bright well-heads, that brighten
⁠With every breath that blows
Too loud to lull, too low to frighten,
⁠But fain to rock, the rose,