Jon Corelis - Slow, Slow, Fresh Fount - ноты, текст песни (слова)

Slow, Slow, Fresh Fount
 
 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.