HE had drunk from founts of pleasure, And his thirst returned again; He had hewn out broken cisterns, And behold! his work was vain. And he said, "Life is a desert, Hot, and measureless, and dry; And God will not give me water, Though I strive, and faint, and die." Then he heard a voice make answer, "Rise and roll the stone away; Sweet and precious springs lie hidden In thy pathway every day." And he said, his heart was sinful, Very sinful was his speech: "All the cooling wells I thirst for Are too deep for me to reach." But the voice cried, "Hope and labor; Doubt and idleness is death; Shape a clear and goodly vessel, With the patient hands of faith." So he wrought and shaped the vessel, Looked, and lo! a well was there; And he drew up living water, With a golden chain of prayer. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY HUT; AFTER TRAN QUANG KHAI by HAYDEN CARRUTH INEVITABLY (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 3. WASHINGTON, D.C. by CLARENCE MAJOR SPRING WIND IN LONDON by KATHERINE MANSFIELD THE QUARREL by KATHERINE MANSFIELD DOMESDAY BOOK: AT FAIRBANKS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: HENRY PHIPPS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |