Sara Teasdale’s “Mountain Water” addresses someone who has tasted something rare and pure—a drink from a wild mountain fountain early in the year. The speaker’s tone is tender but rueful: from the top of a mountain, the only way is down, and afterward the ordinary springs in the valley will never feel fresh or clear again. The memory of that glittering water among the feathery new green makes everything lower and more familiar seem dull by comparison. The mood is bittersweet and wistful. It is a poem about the price of intense beauty or joy: such an experience sharpens the moment, but it can quietly diminish what comes later. The speaker seems to be warning or consoling a loved one, acknowledging that once you have known something so vivid, the everyday world tastes a little flatter.
Mountain Water — Summary
You have taken a drink from a wild fountain Early in the year; There is nowhere to go from the top of a mountain But down, my dear; And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley Will never seem fresh or clear For thinking of the glitter of the mountain water In the feathery green of the year.