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!