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The New Aqueduct
Those old wooden logs
The water has flown through,
These many, many years;
'Tis time that we had new;
Improvement is the cry,
And we throw them useless by.
The water has flown through,
These many, many years;
'Tis time that we had new;
Improvement is the cry,
And we throw them useless by.
Iron take their place,
More permanent and sure;
Through which the stream will run
Abundantly, and pure;
And all shall drink their fill
From the sweet, unfailing rill.
More permanent and sure;
Through which the stream will run
Abundantly, and pure;
And all shall drink their fill
From the sweet, unfailing rill.
Through its hollow way
The stream runs under ground;
No eye beholds its course,
No ear can catch its sound;
Till it sparkles forth again,
In the glad abodes of men.
The stream runs under ground;
No eye beholds its course,
No ear can catch its sound;
Till it sparkles forth again,
In the glad abodes of men.
Like it is to deeds,
Unconscious Worth doth hide;
In secret silence done,
Without a throb of pride;
They too shall one day shine,
With a radiance all divine.
Unconscious Worth doth hide;
In secret silence done,
Without a throb of pride;
They too shall one day shine,
With a radiance all divine.
Patriarchs and kings
Have gained their noblest fame,
In peaceful works like these;
And left enduring name;
Tradition still can tell,
Who dug old Sichem's well.
Have gained their noblest fame,
In peaceful works like these;
And left enduring name;
261
Who dug old Sichem's well.
Ever may it flow!
Within our homes, 'twill prove
An ever-during type
Of Purity and Love,
'Twill give to sickness health,
And raise poverty to wealth.
Within our homes, 'twill prove
An ever-during type
Of Purity and Love,
'Twill give to sickness health,
And raise poverty to wealth.
Poem No. 657; c. 7 June 1850
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |