The "Medical Spring."

I.     Let tipplers all boast of the pleasure divine     That is found in old whisky, in beer and in wine--     But what are all those to a feller who knows     Where the "Medical Spring" in its purity flows,     And has knelt at its brink and just drank his fill     Of the clear, sparkling fluid, from Nature's own still? II.     How often I've strayed on a hot Summer's day     Where it gurgles and gushes, then flows on its way     With a ripple as sweet as the music that died     When the tones of loved voices are to us denied,     And mirrored my face in the "Medical Spring,"     Where the beetling old cliffs their cool shadows fling! III.     Not riches, nor honors, nor place do I crave,     Ere they lay me at last to rest in the grave,     But oh, let me hear its music once more,     And drink from its depths while I kneel on its shore--     Then bear me away on the Death Angel's wing     While my lips are yet moist from the "Medical Spring!"