The Pool Of Memory Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

Within a wood there is a spring.
Its taste is bitter, sharp and cold.
It chills my bones, yet each sip brings
Before me visions to behold.
Not all are pleasant sights to see.
I taste the Pool of Memory.

 ******
Now tip the chalice to your lips.
My love you'll have forever.
Like tender kisses are your sips.
Oh, love, let me linger, linger.

 False lovers drink of mead and wine
To ease their fears, the past forget.
They think their boasts and sobs refined.
Their spirits soar beyond regret.
At dawn they wake in misery.
My love, I taste of Memory. 

******
Now tip the chalice to your lips
My love you'll have forever
Like tender kisses are your sips.
Oh, love, let me linger, linger.

At first the rippling surface shines
Till cloudy shapes below float by.
Beneath the dreamy sky I find
The darkened depths where shadows lie.
Up swells the spring to meet the sea!
Love, taste 'The Pool of Memory.'

 ******
Now tip the chalice to your lips.
My love you'll have forever.
Like tender kisses are your sips.
Oh love, let me linger, linger.