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 rising world of waters dark and deep.

The rising world of waters dark and deep.

Water is life's mater and matrix, mother and medium. There is no life without water.

Water is life's mater and matrix, mother and medium. There is no life without water.

Nothing in the world is more flexible and yielding than water. Yet when it attacks the firm and the strong, read more

Nothing in the world is more flexible and yielding than water. Yet when it attacks the firm and the strong, none can withstand it, because they have no way to change it. So the flexible overcome the adamant, the yielding overcome the forceful. Everyone knows this, but no one can do it.

Don't you realize that the sea is the home of water? All water is off on a journey unless it's read more

Don't you realize that the sea is the home of water? All water is off on a journey unless it's in the sea, and it's homesick, and bound to make its way home someday

What, man! more water glideth by the mill
That wots the miller of; and easy it is
read more

What, man! more water glideth by the mill
That wots the miller of; and easy it is
Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know:
Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother,
Better then he have worn Vulcan's badge.

In an age when man has forgotten his origins and is blind even to his most essential needs for survival, read more

In an age when man has forgotten his origins and is blind even to his most essential needs for survival, water along with other resources has become the victim of his indifference

I'm very fond of water:
It ever must delight
Each mother's son and daughter,--
read more

I'm very fond of water:
It ever must delight
Each mother's son and daughter,--
When qualified aright.

How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection presents them to view.
read more

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.