Some poet long ago has likened life
Unto a saddened soul forever
Dipping buckets into empty wells
And growing old with drawing nothing up.
Let not such deadening creed be mine!
But rather may I prove that life itself
A crystal fountain is, forever
Yielding up its waters sweet,
In draughts so deep our human
Hearts too shallow seem to plumb
Its depths; yet even with our narrow cup
We lift a sparkling tide unto
Our thirsty lipsand drinking
Thus, are satisfied!
Gör som tusentals andra bokälskare
Prenumerera på vårt nyhetsbrev för att få fantastiska erbjudanden och inspiration för din nästa läsning.
Genom att registrera dig accepterar du vår personuppgiftspolicy.Du kan alltid välja att avsluta prenumerationen.
