Eight Partsongs, Op. 119: No. 5, The Inkbottle
Charles Villiers Stanford, Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
Well of blackness, all defiling,
Full of flattery and reviling,
Ah, what mischief hast thou wrought
Out of what was airy thought,
What beginnings, and what ends,
Making and dividing friends!
Colours of the rainbow lie
In thy tint of ebony
Many a fancy have I found
Bright upon that sombre ground
Cupid plays along the edge,
Skimming o'er it like a midge
Niobe in turn appears,
Thinning it with crystal tears.
False abuse and falser praise,
Falsest lays and roundelays!
One thing, one alone, I think,
Never yet was found in ink --
Truth lies not, the truth to tell,
At the bottom of this well!