Sweet water of Silver Spring, oh what soft soothing pleasures you bring
To my eyes my ears my thirsty lips
My tongue so long to taste your flowing delight.
While skins touches your smooth cascades beneath the soft shadows of night.
Your slender Arms hug the neck of Athlone way over on the left,
Whilst George Town’s high hills caress your breast
Yet your cool clear waters bubble and constantly flow.
Where do you come from they asked, and where do you hasten to go
No one has ever answered, nobody seems to know.
Young ladies fear washing their hair, bending beneath your crystal flow
Shadowed curtains around them drawn, be it at nightfall or at early dawn
Chattering women washing their load.
On rocks smooth surfaces by the side of the road.
Valiant young men await their turn.
Sit on the culvert’s edge as they discover and as they learn.
Just one short leg away from hip to toe.
You burst up from the ground and hurry to go
By lush green trees while bending low.
They salute and bows in reverent show
Sumptuous, refreshing, sugary Sweet water of my unassuming Silver Spring
You wind your way over rocks and river Moss all live long day
Until you pour out of your glad waters, into the anxious jaws of Rio Sambre.
By E. L. Kelly. Feb 2016
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