The Fountain by William Wordsworth (Poem, Summary, Paraphrase & Analysis)

 

The Fountain

by William Wordsworth

(Poem, Summary, Paraphrase & Analysis) 

The Fountain

We talked with open heart, and tongue

Affectionate and true,

A pair of friends, though I was young,

And Matthew seventy-two.

We lay beneath a spreading oak,

Beside a mossy seat;

And from the turf a fountain broke

And gurgled at our feet.

 

“Now, Matthew!” said I, “let us match

This water’s pleasant tune

With some old border-song, or catch

That suits a summer’s noon;

Or of the church-clock and the chimes

Sing here beneath the shade

That half-mad thing of witty rhymes

Which you last April made!”

 

In silence Matthew lay, and eyed

The spring beneath the tree;

And thus the dear old man replied,

The grey-haired man of glee:

 

“No check, no stay, this streamlet fears,

How merrily it goes!

’Twill murmur on a thousand years

And flow as now it flows.

 

“And here, on this delightful day,

I cannot choose but think

How oft, a vigorous man, I lay

Beside this fountain’s brink.

 

“My eyes are dim with childish tears,

My heart is idly stirred,

For the same sound is in my ears

Which in those days I heard.

 

“Thus fares it still in our decay:

And yet the wiser mind

Mourns less for what Age takes away,

Than what it leaves behind.

 

“The blackbird amid leafy trees,

The lark above the hill,

Let loose their carols when they please,

Are quiet when they will.

 

“With Nature never do they wage

A foolish strife; they see

A happy youth, and their old age

Is beautiful and free:

 

“But we are pressed by heavy laws;

And often, glad no more,

We wear a face of joy, because

We have been glad of yore.

 

“If there be one who need bemoan

His kindred laid in earth,

The household hearts that were his own, —

It is the man of mirth.

 

“My days, my friend, are almost gone,

My life has been approved,

And many love me; but by none

Am I enough beloved.”

 

“Now both himself and me he wrongs,

The man who thus complains!

I live and sing my idle songs

Upon these happy plains:

 

“And, Matthew, for thy children dead

I’ll be a son to thee!”

 

At this he grasped my hand and said

“Alas! that cannot be.”

 

We rose up from the fountain-side;

And down the smooth descent

Of the green sheep-track did we glide;

And through the wood we went;

And ere we came to Leonard’s Rock

He sang those witty rhymes

About the crazy old church-clock,

And the bewildered chimes.

 

Summary

William Wordsworth’s poem The Fountain presents a reflective conversation between the poet, who is young, and his elderly friend, Matthew, who is seventy-two years old. The two companions sit together beneath a spreading oak tree beside a mossy seat. At their feet, a small fountain bubbles from the turf and flows gently, its pleasant sound accompanying their conversation.

The young poet suggests to Matthew that they should match the sound of the flowing water with a song. He recalls some cheerful possibilities—perhaps an old border-song or a lighthearted catch suitable for a summer afternoon. He even mentions a witty piece of rhymes Matthew had composed the previous April about the church-clock and the chimes. However, Matthew remains silent, gazing at the fountain, until he finally begins to speak in a serious and thoughtful manner.

Matthew reflects on the constancy of the little stream. It flows merrily now, and he says it will continue to murmur and run for a thousand years, just as it does at that moment. The sight and sound of the water bring back memories for him. He recalls how often, in his vigorous younger days, he had lain beside this very fountain. The sound he hears now is the same as then, but his response to it has changed. His eyes fill with tears, and his heart stirs idly with emotion.

He explains that in old age, one mourns not only for what is taken away—such as youth and strength—but also for what is left behind: memories, lingering feelings, and the burdens of the past. To contrast human beings with nature, he notes that birds like the blackbird and the lark sing freely when they wish and fall silent when they choose. They do not struggle against time but live naturally, and so their old age is as free and beautiful as their youth. Humans, however, are bound by heavier laws. Often, even when they are no longer truly glad, they wear a face of joy because they remember having been glad in the past.

Matthew’s thoughts then turn to grief. He says that if anyone has reason to mourn deeply, it is the man who has lost his dearest kindred, the hearts of his own household. Such a man of mirth, who once rejoiced with loved ones, feels the loss most keenly when they are gone. Speaking of himself, Matthew admits that his own life is almost over. He says his life has been upright and approved, and many people love him. Yet, he laments, none love him deeply enough to fill the emptiness left by the loss of his children.

The young poet, moved by Matthew’s words, protests that Matthew wrongs both himself and his friend by such a statement. The poet assures him that he is there, living, singing, and ready to be like a son to him. Matthew, however, replies with sorrow, acknowledging that this is impossible—his real children are gone and cannot be replaced.

After this exchange, the two rise from the fountain’s side and walk together down the smooth green sheep-track and into the wood. As they go, their mood lightens. Before they reach Leonard’s Rock, Matthew breaks into song again, reciting his playful rhymes about the crazy old church-clock and the bewildered chimes, which the young poet had mentioned earlier.

Thus, the poem ends by returning to a lighter tone, closing their reflective and emotional conversation with a moment of cheerful song as the two companions continue their walk.

 

Line-by-line Paraphrase

We talked with open heart, and tongue

-> We spoke honestly and sincerely with one another,

 

Affectionate and true,

-> With warmth and genuine feeling,

 

A pair of friends, though I was young,

-> We were close friends, even though I was still young,

 

And Matthew seventy-two.

-> And my companion Matthew was already seventy-two years old.

 

We lay beneath a spreading oak,

-> We rested under the wide branches of an oak tree,

 

Beside a mossy seat;

-> Next to a seat covered in soft moss,

 

And from the turf a fountain broke

-> And out of the ground a little spring bubbled up,

 

And gurgled at our feet.

-> Making a gentle, flowing sound at our feet.

 

“Now, Matthew!” said I, “let us match

-> I said, “Come on, Matthew! Let’s join in with

 

This water’s pleasant tune

-> The cheerful music of this flowing water

 

With some old border-song, or catch

-> By singing some old song or light tune

 

That suits a summer’s noon;

-> Something fitting for this summer afternoon;

 

Or of the church-clock and the chimes

-> Or perhaps that song about the church-clock and its bells

 

Sing here beneath the shade

-> That you could sing here under the shade,

 

That half-mad thing of witty rhymes

-> That clever, funny piece of rhymes,

 

Which you last April made!”

-> Which you composed last April!”

 

In silence Matthew lay, and eyed

-> Matthew stayed quiet and kept looking

 

The spring beneath the tree;

-> At the little fountain under the tree;

 

And thus the dear old man replied,

-> And then the kind old man finally answered,

 

The grey-haired man of glee:

-> That joyful man with grey hair.

 

“No check, no stay, this streamlet fears,

-> This little stream is never stopped or held back,

 

How merrily it goes!

-> It runs along so happily!

 

’Twill murmur on a thousand years

-> It will keep murmuring for a thousand years,

 

And flow as now it flows.

-> Flowing just the same way it flows now.

 

“And here, on this delightful day,

-> And here, on such a pleasant day as this,

 

I cannot choose but think

-> I cannot help but remember

 

How oft, a vigorous man, I lay

-> How often, when I was strong and full of life, I lay

 

Beside this fountain’s brink.

-> Beside the edge of this fountain.

 

“My eyes are dim with childish tears,

-> My eyes are now clouded with tears, almost like a child’s,

 

My heart is idly stirred,

-> And my heart is strangely moved without reason,

 

For the same sound is in my ears

-> Because I hear the same sound now

 

Which in those days I heard.

-> That I used to hear in my younger days.

 

“Thus fares it still in our decay:

-> That is how it goes when we grow old:

 

And yet the wiser mind

-> Yet, a wiser mind

 

Mourns less for what Age takes away,

-> Grieves less for the things old age takes away,

 

Than what it leaves behind.

-> And more for what old age forces us to keep.

 

“The blackbird amid leafy trees,

-> The blackbird in the thick trees,

 

The lark above the hill,

-> And the lark flying above the hill,

 

Let loose their carols when they please,

-> Sing their songs freely whenever they want,

 

Are quiet when they will.

-> And keep silent whenever they choose.

 

“With Nature never do they wage

-> They never struggle against the laws of Nature;

 

A foolish strife; they see

-> They see no reason for such foolishness;

 

A happy youth, and their old age

-> Their youth is happy, and their old age

 

Is beautiful and free:

-> Is equally beautiful and free.

 

“But we are pressed by heavy laws;

-> But we humans are burdened by strict rules;

 

And often, glad no more,

-> And often, when we are no longer joyful,

 

We wear a face of joy, because

-> We still pretend to be happy,

 

We have been glad of yore.

-> Simply because we remember that once we were happy.

 

“If there be one who need bemoan

-> If there is anyone who truly has reason to grieve

 

His kindred laid in earth,

-> Because his family and loved ones are buried in the ground,

 

The household hearts that were his own, —

-> The beloved hearts of his household,

 

It is the man of mirth.

-> Then it is the man who was once full of joy.

 

“My days, my friend, are almost gone,

-> My days on earth, my friend, are nearly over,

 

My life has been approved,

-> My life has been upright and respected,

 

And many love me; but by none

-> Many people care for me; yet not one

 

Am I enough beloved.”

-> Loves me deeply enough to replace what I have lost.

 

“Now both himself and me he wrongs,

-> At this point he wrongs both himself and me,

 

The man who thus complains!

-> This man who complains so sadly!

 

I live and sing my idle songs

-> For I live here and sing my simple songs

 

Upon these happy plains:

-> Across these cheerful fields:

 

“And, Matthew, for thy children dead

-> And Matthew, since your children are gone,

 

I’ll be a son to thee!”

-> I will act as a son to you!”

 

At this he grasped my hand and said

-> Hearing this, he took my hand and replied,

 

“Alas! that cannot be.”

-> “Alas! That can never truly happen.”

 

We rose up from the fountain-side;

-> Then we stood up from where we had been sitting by the fountain;

 

And down the smooth descent

-> And went down the smooth slope

 

Of the green sheep-track did we glide;

-> Following the green sheep-path, moving easily along;

 

And through the wood we went;

-> And we continued walking through the wood;

 

And ere we came to Leonard’s Rock

-> And before we reached the place called Leonard’s Rock,

 

He sang those witty rhymes

-> He began singing those clever, playful rhymes

 

About the crazy old church-clock,

-> About the old church clock that seemed out of order,

 

And the bewildered chimes.

-> And about its confused and muddled chimes.

 

Analysis in Detail

William Wordsworth’s The Fountain—subtitled “A Conversation”—is both a pastoral scene and a meditation on the contrast between youth and old age. The poem sets up a quiet dialogue between the young poet and his elderly friend Matthew, who is seventy-two. At its heart lies the flowing fountain, a natural image that embodies continuity, memory, and the passage of time. Through this image, Wordsworth brings together themes of constancy and change, joy and grief, and the difference between natural life and human life.

The opening of the poem establishes intimacy and simplicity. Two friends sit beneath a spreading oak tree, beside a mossy seat, while a spring bubbles at their feet. The setting is humble but symbolic, combining strength (the oak), endurance (the mossy seat), and renewal (the fountain). The poet, full of youthful spirit, suggests that they should respond to the cheerful sound of the water with song—perhaps a lively border ballad or a witty rhyme Matthew himself composed in earlier days. Already we see the youthful impulse toward mirth and spontaneity.

But Matthew’s response shifts the tone. Instead of joining in the lighthearted suggestion, he reflects quietly on the stream itself. He notices its constancy—it will murmur on for a thousand years, unchanged. The spring sparks his memory: he recalls lying beside it when he was strong and vigorous, and now, though the sound is the same, his heart is stirred by tears and sorrow. The fountain thus becomes a mirror of human life—it is steady, but human beings are not. Time has passed, his strength has faded, and the permanence of the fountain reminds him of his own impermanence.

From here, Matthew deepens his reflection. He explains that old age is not only about what is lost—youth, vitality, joy—but also about what lingers: memories, regrets, and griefs that the heart must continue to carry. He contrasts humans with the birds of the air. The blackbird and the lark sing freely when they please and fall silent when they wish. Their old age is as natural and beautiful as their youth. Human beings, by contrast, are bound by “heavy laws.” We feel compelled to wear a mask of joy even when gladness has gone, because memory reminds us of what joy once was. In this way, humanity suffers more than nature, burdened not only by loss but by consciousness of loss.

Matthew then turns to personal sorrow. He insists that the one who most deserves pity is not the somber man but the man of mirth who has lost his household, his beloved family. For him, the memory of laughter makes absence even sharper. Matthew applies this truth to himself: his life is nearly over, he has lived well, and many people love him. Yet none love him enough to replace his children, who are dead. Here the poem reaches its most poignant moment. Matthew’s confession is not of bitterness but of deep loneliness, an unfillable gap left by grief.

The young poet responds with affection and loyalty, protesting that Matthew wrongs himself and his friend by claiming he is unloved. He promises that he will be like a son to Matthew. Yet Matthew sadly insists that such a replacement cannot be. Real children cannot be replaced by substitutes, however devoted. This exchange highlights the limitations of sympathy and friendship in the face of personal loss.

After this somber reflection, the two friends rise and continue their walk down the green sheep-track and through the woods. Before they reach Leonard’s Rock, the mood has lightened. Matthew begins to sing again—this time the same witty rhymes about the old church-clock and its confused chimes. The ending is deliberately gentle. The grief expressed is not erased, but the return of cheerful song shows that companionship and simple joys still remain alongside sorrow.

Overall, The Fountain balances two perspectives: youthful eagerness and aged reflection. The fountain itself symbolizes endurance and continuity, in contrast to human frailty and change. The poem is conversational but layered, moving from light suggestion to deep meditation, then back again to lightness. Wordsworth’s use of natural imagery, especially the flowing water, allows him to capture both the permanence of nature and the fleeting, painful, yet meaningful course of human life.