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

'Tis a little thing
To give a cup of water; yet its draught
Of cool refreshment, drain'd read more

'Tis a little thing
To give a cup of water; yet its draught
Of cool refreshment, drain'd by fever'd lips,
May give a shock of pleasure to the frame
More exquisite than when nectarean juice
Renews the life of joy in happiest hours.

Fire, water and government know nothing of mercy.

Fire, water and government know nothing of mercy.

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.

A flatterer has water in one hand and fire in the other.

A flatterer has water in one hand and fire in the other.

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.

O Lord! methought what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!
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O Lord! methought what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes!
Methoughts I saw a thousand fearful wracks;
A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
All scatt'red in the bottom of the sea:
Some lay in dead men's skulls, and in the holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept
(As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems,
That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep
And mocked the dead bones that lay scatt'red by.

The world turns softly
Not to spill its lakes and rivers,
The water is held in its read more

The world turns softly
Not to spill its lakes and rivers,
The water is held in its arms
And the sky is held in the water.
What is water,
That pours silver,
And can hold the sky?

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.