Herbert Price - "Never again will she visit the Old Well" lyrics

O weary watcher waiting at the well! She cannot come to fill thy aching brain With thoughts as sweet as nectar in a cell, Or bright as flowers in a dreamy dell; Her individual force is spent; in vain Thou yearnest for the touch that eases pain; No longer can she weave her mystic spell. For she is now a part of all around, A spirit and an essence, a desire, An inspiration in the heart of things, That murmurs in the harmony of sound, Is white in lilies, red in flaming fire, And everlasting in recurring springs.