… There is a change—and I am poor; 
Your love hath been, nor long ago, 
A fountain at my fond heart’s door, 
Whose only business was to flow; 
And flow it did; not taking heed 
Of its own bounty, or my need. 

What happy moments did I count! 
Blest was I then all bliss above! 
Now, for that consecrated fount 
Of murmuring, sparkling, living love, 
What have I? shall I dare to tell? 
A comfortless and hidden well. 

A well of love—it may be deep— 
I trust it is,—and never dry: 
What matter? if the waters sleep 
In silence and obscurity. 
—Such change, and at the very door 
Of my fond heart, hath made me poor. 

A Complaint

By William Wordsworth

Sesame Street: Pentatonix Counts (& Sings) to Five (by Sesame Street)