A fountain stood amidst an oak tree grove,
His crystal water flowed ever clear
Like mother nature's treasure trove,
Providing birds and flowers cheer.

Atop a hill, away form prying eyes
A green and grassy forest's spot
An unseen haven, heaven under blue skies
A place of glee, never too cold nor hot.

During the summertime came birds
Who form the fountains water drank
And showered him with tweets, like words
Of compliment, like songs of thanks.

When frosty winter came a knocking,
The fountain threatened by discomfort
The oak tree branches did the blocking
Of snow, and in their roots he found his comfort.

Thus ages passed, years and centuries
One season went the other came again  
Yet always stood the fountain by his trees  
To the day of the coming of the Men.

They found his grove, all armored after a battle lost
The fountain quenched their thirst,
He was their most benevolent host
Not knowing he would be forever cursed.

Henceforth they frequented him often
The fountain enjoyed their visitations
They sang him ballads that could soften
The hardest rock, or heart throughout the nations.

But enemy came, the fountain saw the slaughter
He saw his friends the warriors die
He felt warm blood mix in his water
He saw it all, and he began to cry

His tears like water flowing, gushing
Form the bowels of nature's soul
And to the surface they came rushing
From the fountain more water now roll.

The stronger that his tears flew,  
The livelier the grove became
More flowers form his stream then grew
More birds to his pool then came.

More years had passed, just like before
The groves dear secret was revealed  
And men start coming more and more
Tools of destruction they did wield.

Man with an axe cut down every oak
He plowed through every bush and flower
So fiercely man the nature does invoke,
He took the fountains greenery with power.
 
Instead of grass he had now pavement,
If not for pigeons he'd be all alone,  
And to stand still in such enslavement
Man gave him a body cut of marble stone

The fountain kept on weeping still
He cried, more water came a flow  
A wound in his soul that could not heal  
Produced such strong a water flow.

The fountain then became sick with grief
And even stronger was now his fear
He cried out more with disbelief
As his once crystal waters were no longer clear  

He cried for days and nights without an end
No longer cheerful was our fountain
At night he dreamed about his once green land
Of trees and birds and hills and mountains

Then one spring day, a Skylark came
And sat upon the fountains marble head,
'Oh lovely bird, be kind tell me thy name
And state your point of goal' he said.

'I am the Skylark, and form the south I way
I come on search to find a place of myth
A grove there is, I heard some birds did say,
Of eternal spring, 'tis there I fly forthwith'

The fountain then spoke in reply:
'Such fabled grove indeed used to exist  
But you waste time if there you wish to fly
For on that once proud fountain you now sit'
'This cannot be' the bird at him laughed out
'You're but a lump of manmade stone I think
A ghastly shape of marble, with a rusty sprout
Your air's unclean and water are unfit to drink'

The bird flew off and with her Hope.
The fountain had endured his final shame
With nothing more he could not cope  
And no pain could him now maim...

Right then the fountain stopped and cried no more
Alas the cheerful fountain has gone dry
His marble vessel stood there empty, dusty, sore
For no more tears he had in him to cry.