And so never ending,
But always descending.

And so never ending,
But always descending.

How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection presents them to view.
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How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection presents them to view.
. . . .
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.

The deeper the waters are, the more still they run.

The deeper the waters are, the more still they run.

'Tis rushing now adown the spout,
And gushing out below,
Half frantic in its joyousness,
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'Tis rushing now adown the spout,
And gushing out below,
Half frantic in its joyousness,
And wild in eager flow.
The earth is dried and parched with heat,
And it hath long'd to be
Released from out the selfish cloud,
To cool the thirsty tree.

How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,
As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my read more

How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,
As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips!
Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,
The brightest that beauty or revelry sips.

The people are like water and the ruler a boat. Water can
support a boat or overturn it.

The people are like water and the ruler a boat. Water can
support a boat or overturn it.

Enough shovels of earth -- a mountain. Enough pails of water -- a river.

Enough shovels of earth -- a mountain. Enough pails of water -- a river.

Till taught by pain,
Men really know not what good water's worth;
If you had been in read more

Till taught by pain,
Men really know not what good water's worth;
If you had been in Turkey or in Spain,
Or with a famish'd boat's-crew had your berth,
Or in the desert heard the camel's bell,
You'd wish yourself where Truth is--in a well.

Pouring oil on troubled water.

Pouring oil on troubled water.