Henry Head

“ She...
Deep within me springs a fountain,
Leaping upward to the sunlight,
At the sport of little breezes
Rudely scattered.
Dearest, all my veering sorrows
In your warmth are turned to beauty,
And the clear spring of my longing
Sobbing gently,
Ever constant, gay or tearful,
Breaks to dewdrops in the sunshine,
Falling back into my bosom,
Rainbow tinted. ”