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.
About this quote
- What does it mean?
- The speaker compares grief to slow, gentle water and laments lost beauty, noting nature's pride is now withered.
- In plain terms
- Grief is like slow water; beauty is gone like a fallen flower.
- What can you take from it?
- Accept the passage of time.
Where it applies
Putting it to work
Questions to consider
- How do you express sorrow?
- What comforts you in loss?
Another view
Not all beauty is lost; new things grow in its place.
More from Ben Jonson
Art hath an enemy called Ignorance.
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