O'er golden sands my waters flow,
     With pearls my road is paven white,
Upon my banks sweet flowers blow
     And amber rocks direct me right.

Look in my mother-spring; how deep
     Her dark-green waters, yet how clear!
For joy the pale-eyed stars do weep
     To see themselves so beauteous here.

Her pebbles all to emeralds turn,
     Her mosses fine as Nereid's hair,
Bright leaps the crystal from her urn,
     As pure as dew and twice as rare.

Tast of the wave, 'twill charm thy blood.
     And make thy cheek out-bloom the rose,
'Twill calm thy heart and clear thy mood,
     Come! sip it freshly as it flows.